


Gold Dust

by chloefrazerr



Series: Dragon's Heart [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloefrazerr/pseuds/chloefrazerr
Summary: Iveona Nethys always wanted to find a way to atone for what she's done but the destiny of carrying out an Emperor's wish and having the fate of all of Tamriel on her fingertips was a little different from what she had in mind.And so she emerges from the fires of Kvatch to change the fate of Brother Martin, unknowing to what it would mean to them both.





	1. Knock

The first time they met, it started from a knock on the door.

 

The large doors of the Chapel rattled with each knock, the noise echoing. Everyone occupant within the Chapel seemed to still simultaneously, all eyes casting to the only way that the Daemora could get in. The air grew thick, everyone waiting with berated breath for the knocks to come again, to know they hadn't just been dreaming it. And they did, this time incessant and demanding.

 

In the furthest part of the Chapel, near the stainless windows, a priest knelt, praying with the few remaining survivors. He lifted his head to stare that the door, greying hair falling into his gentle blue eyes. As though it was second nature, he cast a spell from his fingertips. His eyes were bathed in a white glow, the same colour aura being seen from the Chapel's occupants and from the figure on the other side of the door. He blinked and the world returned to as it were.

 

He stood the others nearby staring at him with questioning gazes. Even the guards did, turning the heads back from where they stood at the door

 

"It's no Daedra," He announced, leaving his words hanging in the air. He could not be clear who was on the other side but he knew there was no danger present. A guard, perhaps? A refugee who had managed to sneak their way past the Gate? All the options were absurd. Whoever the individual was, they were either stupid for trying to reach the Chapel or far too injured to realise what was happening.

 

There was a pause as the Guards decided what to do, their hushed murmurs carrying across the stone walls. After much deliberation between them, he could see they'd made their choice when they all nodded their heads. One brave soul approached the door whilst the others formed a barricade, shields up front and swords poking out from the sides. The door opened with a creak and in slipped a small, lithe figure. Heat from the outside poured through until the guard slammed the door shut to keep the monstrosities out.

 

He felt his feet carry him over to the person who had just entered, question in his gaze. Other did too, curious as to who this newcomer was. Drawing nearer he took note of how petite they were in both frame and height. Their leather armour barely clung to their frame, like there was meat lacking on their bones. The armour had several tears to it, grey skin illuminated by the red that streamed in from the glass. Their face was covered; by the shadows and their hood, making it impossible to see their face. One of the Guards questioned them but was met with no reply.

 

Instead, the mysterious figure turned their head as though searching for someone. The movement slowed when they neared his position, stopping altogether as they stared directly at him. While he could not see that they were gazing at him, he could feel the icy intensity of it, chilling him to the core and freezing him in place. The spell was broken as they made their way towards him, the Guards observing them apprehensively and the citizens with fear. They betrayed no inclination in their body language that they were disturbed by the many eyes upon them, stalking head fast towards him.

 

When they were shy of a few metres from him, they halted their path but they were close enough for him to catch a glimpse of their face. The majority of her face was covered by a hood and a scarf that was draped over her mouth and her nose. Only her eyes were exposed, a deep crimson colour that was known to belong to Dunmer. They held a frosty gleam to them, unlike the blaze that would normally be associated with the colour. A small, elven dagger was strapped to one hip and a Scimitar on the other. He didn't let what he saw perturb him, having seen similar in his years as a Priest.

 

"Are you Martin?" The voice was low and rough, holding a raspy quality to it, like the voice was often used.

 

It retained feminine tones, informing him that the individual was a womer. As she spoke, he couldn't help but feel another shiver creep up on him and he repressed the urge to act such a way in front of her. Instead, he chose to focus on the suspicion that arose when she spoke his name. How did she know who he was if never having met her before? If the circumstance were different, he might not have thought twice. But with the Oblivion Gate tall in Kvatch, most of the town killed and a random stranger amongst it all was warrant for wariness.

 

"Why? Who are you?" He didn't bother to keep the caution out of his voice, wanting exactly to let the Dunmer know how he felt.

 

The response was a blink of the cold, red eyes; acting like the edge to his voice didn't faze her in the slightest. She stepped closer to him and Martin willed himself not to step back, wanting to show the Mer he wasn't affected by her. Even when her piercing gaze remained glued to his eyes and Martin felt like she could see into his very soul. It was disturbing to say the least.

 

"Are you Martin?" She repeated and each word was stressed with the ire that rose in her tone. It was then when he realised that this womer was dangerous and not one to be trifled with. Yet, Martin didn't allow himself to falter to her intimidation.

 

"Yes, I am Martin, what do you want with me?" He answered, equally as irate, not at all appreciating her rather unneeded behaviour.

 

He could see her brow move upward, no doubt at the tone of his voice. In fact, the iciness of her gaze seemed to dim a little, intrigue filling them, something that left his perplexed but he didn’t mention, brushing it off as a trick of the light. She stepped closer to him, breaching his personal space. This time he let his discomfort show, unsure how to feel about the proximity.

 

“The Emperor sent me. You’re his son and you’re needed,”


	2. Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin learns who the Hero is

Smoke billowed upwards, camouflaging with the darkened sky above. The fire from which it came burned brightly, creating a glow around the dried grass. It crackled and hissed every now and then as the wood splintered and burnt. Its warmth radiated quite far despite its small size, keeping the two figures safe from the bitter cold that had come about when night had fallen. A biting breeze caused the flame to flicker and one figure to shiver, shifting closer to the comfort of the fire. Hands drew forward, seeking to take advantage of the heat.

 

Whilst he knew that he could conjure fire to keep himself protected from the chill, he was too weary to use his Magicka. Having been on the road for about three days with little to no rest was beginning to take its toll on him, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. It showed in his stamina, often being behind and racing to catch up with his companion. Martin’s tired eyes drifted over the flames to stare at the Dunmer.

 

She sat, crossed legged, on the grass carefully slicing a poor rabbit that she’d poached before they settled for the night. Her focus was intent on the preparation of their meal, allowing Martin to study her for a while longer. When she had breezed into the Chapel, he wasn’t sure what to expect but he certainly didn’t expect her to tell him of his true heritage. Even now he was still reeling from truth that he was the son of the late Uriel Septim the Seventh. Not matter how much he wanted to deny it, to shout at her that she was lying, he very well knew that it was the truth.

 

It hurt him to think that his life was a lie; that his father was no farmer and his mother didn’t die in childbirth. His biological mother could still be out there but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on such thoughts, knowing it was better than to think of it that way. However, he wasn’t sure if the bitterness would simply fade overnight. It was strange for news as momentous at that to come from someone who he knew had nothing to do with it all.

 

After that, she had demanded that he come with her to escape the Daedra that had still poured from the Gate outside but Martin wouldn’t follow her until they were all gone. He could remember the regret that had come when she had nodded at him once before striding out the doors, leaving as quickly as she came for he realised that he may have just sent her to her death. He had prayed to Akatosh that she would return unharmed and she did just that. This time with the Captain by her side, who told all that the danger had passed.

 

Martin stayed true to his word and informed her that he would come to Weynon Priory. And so they journeyed away from the destroyed town of Kvatch, the remaining survivors cheering for their Hero. The tension was apparent in her body as they named her such, coiling at the mere mention of it, like she didn’t want to be called that. It was a name that he had to refer to her as for she had yet to give him her actual name.

 

Of course, he didn’t actually call her that, only in his mind when he thought of her. They hadn’t uttered many words to each other since leaving Kvatch, just the occasional affirmative that they would be stopping for the night. Martin wanted to strike up conversation with her, being quite intrigued to the mysterious aura that surrounded her and called to him to discover more. But at the same time, he could tell that she was already a womer of few words and didn’t want to talk to him.

 

That of course reminded him of what he may be to her; nothing but a mission. She wasn’t here to be neither his friend nor his acquaintance, it was clear the moment they started on their voyage. Why else would she search for him when there was a Gate standing in the middle of a town? Why else would she risk herself to close it? Because he was the last hope Tamriel had to save the Empire, not because she was a kind soul that wanted to save people.

 

The bitterness from his earlier thoughts creeped up on him again and his brow deepened. He tried to keep the thoughts repressed, knowing that perhaps he was being too closed minded before he actually attempted to know more about the womer. But his frayed and foggy mind refused to let the souring thought loose from their grasp.

 

“What is your name?” He suddenly spoke, shocking himself as the words fell from his lips but knew it was him trying to keep away from the darker thoughts.

 

The Hero stilled in her placed, dagger pausing where it had been cutting away at the rabbit’s leg. He could tell that the question wasn’t anticipated and a small smug part of his rejoiced at being able to catch her.

 

Her head rose from its bowed position over the meat, frosty eyes that clashed with the crimson staring at him impassively. Her face was still covered by her hood and the mask, making it hard for him to register any sort of emotion. Even her eyes lacked it, unlike the time in the Chapel when he has seen curiosity, a flicker of what the womer is. Now, her gaze remained guarded and he could tell that everything about her was locked up tight. All he had to do was find the right key. He didn’t understand why he was so curious about her but it would still be nice to know a little more about the womer who saved all of Kvatch for him.

 

“It’s not important,” She replied, going back to the flayed rabbit as if he hadn’t even asked her a question and his eyebrow quirked up.

 

Was she really that adamant about not revealing anything about herself?

 

“Would you rather I call you Hero?” Her reaction was instantaneous and he knew he’d caught her.

 

Her shoulders hunched forward and it was like her body was slowly starting to coil into itself. Martin felt a stab of guilt, now realising that perhaps he’d take it a bit too far for it was clear that she was uncomfortable. He went to apologize for his forward behaviour only for her to beat him to it.

 

“It’s Iveona,” She began and Martin blinked, actually surprised that she had decided to reply.

 

She lifted her head again, a hard edge to her eyes as if daring him to say anything. He chose not to, waiting for her to continue.

 

“Iveona Nethys,” She informed him and Martin felt a smile worm its way onto his face.

 

“A pleasure,” He saw her frown, something flashing across her eyes that he couldn’t decipher for she bowed her head again.

 

Regardless of the abrupt change, Martin still felt the smile linger on his face.


	3. Beginnings

3  
Father

 

“Why did he send you?”

 

The words had fallen from his lips before his mind could comprehend what he had done. Internally, he winced the way he had phrased the question. It sounded accusing and harsh, like he was complaining about Iveona. It was not his intention. Her indifferent eyes turned to meet his up to betraying no emotion to his choice of words.

 

They sat side by side against a river bank, the water flowing gently down the rocks. The sun was high in the sky today, heat spilling down on them which was unusual given the early days of Heathfire. It had been so unbearable warm that they had both agreed to rest for a moment and by convenience a stream happened to be nearby. Iveona had slipped off her boots, her feet dipped into the cooling waters. Martin had neglected to do the same, his hands running through the running water instead. They had sat in a peaceful, somewhat content silence, the tense edge a few days ago dissipating. That was of course, until he had opened his mouth.

 

“I mean-”

 

“I know what you meant,” She interrupted, her tone much the same as her eyes but he could detect something hidden within that he wasn’t sure he could see.

 

Martin didn’t press her for more questions, waiting patiently for her to answer, if she wanted to. He had been through this many times before when in the Chapel of Akatosh when travellers from all crawls of life had to come in search of answers as they sat next him. Only this time, it was he who was looking for answers.

 

Her eyes fell from his and he took note of that, normally it was him that had turned from her smouldering gaze. He didn’t dare shuffle closer nor touch her shoulder, his hands remaining to play with the water. A sigh of weariness fell from her lips, her head bowing towards the ground.

 

“I was there when he died,”

 

Martin blinked.

 

He had not been expecting that.

 

The priest turned away from her then, eyes finding the dense a few metres away. Martin stayed silent, trying to break down and make sense of the emotions that came through him at the admission. As the news of the Emperor’s death spread like a wildfire across Cyrodill, Martin had been one of the many citizens to mourn the man for a moment to allow his soul to rest before moving on like nothing had even happened. Even when Iveona had informed him of his true parentage, he had waited for the powerful storm of emotion to come as he thought of Uriel Septim’s death later on in that night.

 

But nothing had come, only a sense of loss that he had never had the chance to meet his real father. Although the man had every opportunity to do so throughout Martin’s thirty eight years for the man knew the truth otherwise Iveona wouldn’t be here now. The Emperor had no true connection to him, not truly. All Uriel Septim was to him was a figurehead and a leader, despite how cruel it sounds, it was the truth. He did not let anger about the situation consume him, what happened in the past stayed there; his life now was about the present and the future to come for him.

 

“He had asked me to find you,” She began, startling Martin out from his thoughts and his turned his sole attention to the Dunmer.

 

“Gave me the Amulet of Kings and go find Jaffure and his last son. I didn’t understand why, I was-” She stopped herself there abruptly; eyes flickered over to him with a hard glint. Martin took no notice, engrossed in her story.

 

Despite it being so short, it was the longest she had even spoken to him before and he felt something in his chest that a womer who kept herself so closed off gave him trust, if it even was that.

 

“I’m no Blade. I’m no Hero. I’m no one, just someone who was there at the wrong time,” Her words held a bitter edge to them, something that made him frown.

 

“No you’re not,” He informed her without hesitation, his frown deepening when she scoffed.

 

“You don’t even know me,” Her voice was sharp, like she wanted to cut him with her words.

 

“No, I don’t,” He started, honestly, causing her eyes to fall to him again and Martin stared back her in determination.

 

“But regardless of the circumstances, you still saved a town of people by closing an Oblivion Gate and you’re helping people you don’t know. To me, that doesn’t sound like being no one,” He stopped there, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with his preaching.

 

Not everyone appreciated his ramblings back in Kvatch but he wanted to let Iveona knew what he thought her. Despite his bitter thoughts day ago about being just a mission to her, he knew that wasn’t the case anymore after hearing her words. To him, she seemed selfless to find him despite not being bound to Uriel Septim in cause or association. Martin did not know much about her, but from what he had seen through her actions, he was beginning to think that she seemed to be a good person. It took a lot for someone to go out of their way to help someone they didn’t even know. If anything, it was admirable. Her eyes glinted with disbelief and he knew that his words had meant something to her. She coughed and blinked the disbelief away, as if it hadn’t been there in the first place but Martin knew otherwise.

 

“I can see why you’re a priest,” Her eyes were twinkling with mirth, so unlike the passive and negative emotion that was normally displayed there. A breathy laugh left him, mainly at the abrupt humour that she had brought.

 

“Does that mean you’ll start listening to me now?” He wondered, throwing in his own humour as well, glad that the tension between they had slowly begun to dissipate. Iveona snorted again and Martin couldn’t help but smile again.

 

“In your dreams, Princess,” This time his laugh came out like a punch to the lungs and the force of it launched him back onto the grass.

 

His body shook with barely contained laughter, having not felt this light in weeks. He admired her straightforward nature, finding it refreshing from being used to timid characters around him. It also made him realise that she didn’t seem to care all the much about his new status, something which he didn’t want when the truth had been revealed.

 

His laughter was borderline hysterical at this point but he felt that he needed release from all the utter madness that had occurred within the past week. Daedra coming out from Oblivion, a Dunmer appearing out of nowhere and finding out Uriel Septim was his father. Utter madness. When his laughs had finally slowed down, it left him with aching sides and a light head.

 

“You’re an odd man, Martin,” Iveona informed him, causing him to lift his upper half up, resting his elbows on the riverbank.

 

He gave her a dazzling smile and he could have sworn to Talos himself that her eye twitched but he played it off as a trick of the light. There were a few minutes of silence as Martin continued to smile at her, uncaring to how mad he seemed to be. This time, he caught the softening gleam in her eyes and he knew that he might be breaking through her shell.


	4. Trouble

Dusk was slowly starting to fall; the sky painted a deep orange and purple. The sun had been lost behind the dense trees that the pair travelled through. Iveona made sure to stay clear of main roads to prevent being so easily caught by the Mythic Dawn. She still knew the way to the Priory, having taken this exact path when she had made her way to Kvatch less than three weeks ago. It was now the ninth day in their way to their destination and she knew that it would be another week to the Priory with the longer way they were going but it was safe this way.

 

Briefly, she turned her head to behind her to glance at Martin. The Priest’s face was flushed crimson, no doubt trying to match her fast pace.  She slowed her pace slightly and he gave her a thankful look, puffing his cheeks in exertion. She knew that Martin was older than her; if his grey hairs and stamina were anything to go by. But she wouldn’t apologize for working him hard to reach the Priory. After all, the matter was quite pressing at the moment. After all, he was the last hope for the Empire and closing the Gates of Oblivion.

 

If she was honest, Iveona still hadn’t quite figured out exactly why she was doing this. Why she was willingly escorting the man across Cyrodiil to save the Empire. She didn’t much care for it, feeling they wanted to conquer all the other countries in Tamriel for their own pleasure. Iveona supposed she didn’t want the world to end through the monsters that were the Daedra; she planned to live in the world for quite a while yet. But now that feeling had turned into something more and she knew it had something to do with the man behind her, despite how she tried to prevent it.

 

There was something different about him and she knew it had nothing to do with his royal status. It was something more that stirred certain things in her chest. She wasn’t falling in love with the man; she wasn’t that foolish. She had experienced love once and it ended in disaster. Iveona figured it was something to do with his utter kindness. At first, she was wary of it, thinking he was doing it for his own gain but having spent more than a week with him, it was more.

 

It was genuine.

 

She discovered that when he asked for her name.

 

No one asked for her name.

 

She was no one, she wasn’t anything special or important and she liked to keep it that way. The less the world knew about her the better. But it seemed that Martin didn’t think the same. She had to admit, he was brave to try to weasel information out of her. The last person who had pushed and pushed to know more about her ended up with a sliced throat. She couldn’t really do that to him and a small, stupid part of her liked his curiosity about her.

 

Of course, she had squashed those thoughts down immediately. She refused to let herself become attached to this kind hearted man, having no strings suited her just fine and it had done so for the majority of her life. When they arrived at the Priory he would forget about her and all of this would just be some distant memory.

 

She wasn’t sure where she would be going but it would be anywhere other than Morrowind. The people she worked for were no doubt searching for her now; the news of the incident would have reached them by now. She’d been stuck in an Imperial prison for the past six months; it was long enough for information to travel back to her former superiors. Nonetheless, she would figure something out, she always did.

 

Her thoughts dwindled away as she noticed Martin’s head starting to turn towards her and she snapped her head back to the front, not wanting to be caught staring. She had to keep her frigid and guarded exterior, lest she start to actually feel something.

 

“Would it not be best to stop now?” Martin’s voice sounded devoid of energy, weariness clinging to his words.

 

Iveona stopped in her tracks, pausing to debate on what to do. It may be good to stop now; the woods provided good cover and they were both exhausted. But then again, they were many days into their journey and still failed to reach the Priory.  His footfalls sped up slightly and Iveona had to prevent herself from tensing when he came to amble beside her. In the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her, warm eyes watching her. It only succeeded in making her uncomfortable.

 

She felt that the longer he stared, the more he could discover about her.  She didn’t want him to find out much about her, feeling that her name and how she got into the situation was enough. Someone from long ago once told her that her eyes were the window to her inner emotion, having said that they could tell all that she was thinking. At first she thought them foolish but the way Martin searched her gaze, she thought perhaps it was true. In the next town she visited, she would find a mask to better cover her face than the flimsy cloth she was currently using.

 

She heard the crack of a branch from far away. Iveona stilled, her ears twitching underneath her hood to search for the origin of the noise. Her red eyes raked the surroundings only to find nothing but endless trees. Despite finding nothing, she knew there was something hidden in the shadows. She often spent her time there, so she knew its tricks better than most. In the corner of her eye, she saw Martin go to speak but she held a hand up to stop him, wanting to be able to use her ears to detect any danger.

 

It was then when she heard something whizzing through the air and she reacted faster than lightning. Without hesitation, she reached forward to grab the front of Martin’s robe, keeping a firm grip on the fabric. His face conveyed surprise as she pulled them to the ground. Only a split second later did an arrow bury itself into the bark of the tree behind them. Iveona let her grasp on Martin fall, whirling around to face whoever had attempted to kill them.

 

Her blades became unsheathed from her sides and she brought them out before her, positioning herself in her fighting stance.  Her knees became crouched with legs becoming shoulder width apart and her elbows hovering beside her waist.

 

“Stay behind me and don’t move from this spot,” She hissed through the cover, loud enough for him to hear.

 

In the corner of her eyes she saw his face scrunch up in protest and she clenched her teeth. Five figures emerging from the woods drew her attention away from Martin for now. All held bows in their grasp, drawstring stretched and arrows in its nooks. Under her hood, she could feel her lip start to twitch up, realising that these Bandits would be too easy to deal with. She also noticed their lack of armour; wearing little but cloth to cover their decency, skin exposed that would be too easy to cut. There was a ravenous gleam to all of their eyes and she knew that they’d stumbled across

 

Cannibals.

 

Swiftly, she flipped her smallest dagger so that she was holding the blade, making it easier to throw. Iveona decided not to strike yet, waiting for them to draw closer so that it would be easier for her to take them all down.

 

“Look at what we have here boys,” The one in the centre of them started; voice dripping with hunger. He was the largest out of the five and clearly the leader if his plethora of markings in comparison to others told her anything.

 

“Iveona,” Martin hissed from behind her to which she ignored her focus intent on how she was going to kill them all.

 

“Looks like we found our next meal. I want the Imperial all-” His words were cut short when an elven dagger lodged itself into the centre of his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've got two full written chapters left, i haven't had the chance to write for I'm in the middle of a levels so there will be a period of no updates because i'm trying to catch up with my writing


	5. Blood

5   
Blood

 

A hush fell around the clearing as the giant man slumped to the ground, causing it to quake and the dirt to lift. Blood seeped from his wound, droplets dripping to the dry ground and staining the brown earth crimson. His chest did not rise nor did it fall, in fact he didn’t move at all, his lifeless eyes staring up to the sky. His comrades gaped at the dead body, which provided her with an opportunity.

 

Iveona rushed at them then, not even bothering to check on Martin. At the moment, she didn’t care about him, she cared about this fight. She’d been itching to take her aggression out on something and this presented her with the perfect opportunity to do so. Back in the Imperial prison, she’d had little chance to take it out on the Mythic Dawn, being that the guards had taken care of most of them, which left her with little room to attack. Normally, she wouldn’t consider herself to be such a violent person; being calm and collected was something that worked well in her line of work. But she supposed that being locked up in a prison for six months left her to her thoughts much too often and had started to change the way she thought.

 

Her free hand joined her other in grasping the hilt of her sword. When she reached the Cannibal on the furthest left, the one the closest to her, she pushed all of her strength into her arms and swung her scimitar. The blade cut clean through his arm and an ungodly scream ripped out from his mouth. The noise echoed across the empty clearing and spurred the remaining three on. One charged at her, a war cry erupting from him. Iveona easily sidestepped him, almost rolling her eyes at his stupidity. She heard him stumble behind her but she paid no mind to him for now. An arrow flew towards her, which to dodged by doing a forward rolling, being careful of the sharp blade she still held in her grasp.

 

When she rolled to her hands and knees, something sharp pierced her skin. A groan nearly wormed its way past her lips as she felt the arrow’s head dig itself into the junction between her shoulder and her chest. As pain radiated down the length of her arm, she dropped her scimitar without thinking. She lifted her head to see two smug archers before her, their arrows pointed directly at her, waiting for her to make a move. Before she could even come up with a plan one of the men were thrown back by a shot of white and Iveona almost shivered when she felt the chill that followed with it. The man slammed into a nearby tree, a sharp crack resounding across the meadow as his neck bent in a way that wasn’t normal.

 

Iveona whirled her head to face the attacker, her eyes narrowing when she saw it was Martin. His hands were bathed in a frosty hue, magic coming off his finds in tendrils. He met her eyes, his glinting with defiance, no doubt daring her to say something to her. Just as she was about to do just that she noticed that the other archer was drawing bow in Martin direction. With a growl bubbling at the base of her throat, she rose to her feet, her anger at Martin’s action causing all proper thinking to blur. She charged at the man, angling her body and crashed her body into his. As she tackled him to the ground, she felt his feet trip on something that sent them stumbling down the steep incline that she and Martin had climbed only a few moments ago.

 

Every bump left her wincing, her teeth grinding against each other every time she bounced off the ground. Half way down her tumble, she felt the wood of the arrow snap off its head, the latter of which was still dug into shoulder. All she could think about as she continued to roll was how she was going to kill Martin when she recovered. If it wasn’t for his actions, she wouldn’t be in this mess. After what seemed like forever, her rolling started to slow until her back was resting against cool grass, its moisture seeping into her thin layers. Despite how much her body wanted her to relax and close her eyes; she refused until the other Cannibal was dead. She hurried to her hands and knees, finding him also on the ground, though he was on his front. His form shook as she heard him cough and splutter, as though trying to take air back into his lungs.

 

She sauntered her way over to him, collecting an arrow from the ground that had rolled out of its leather sheath. Iveona was mindful to not use her right hand, the agony radiating from her wound too much for her to even move a muscle. Instead, she held it in her left hand as she placed a foot to the man’s side, using whatever strength she had left to push his body sideways. His eyes widened as she loomed above him and she made sure that her eyes were indifferent. Fear shone in his eyes as she knelt beside him, the emotion clearly paralyzing him.

 

Iveona didn’t react to his newfound terror, feeling her icy shell wrap around her. It always came whenever she went in for a kill, as though her mind wanted her to be desensitised by her actions, despite how many times she had done this in her short life. Without even batting an eyelid, she sunk the arrow into the man’s throat. His blood squirted out from the wound, splattering across her mask, some even managing to land on the bridge on her nose. She watched with impassive eyes as he choked on his own blood and the arrow that prevented from breathing. His body twitched and his eyes were truly filled with horror. They soon glazed over after many moments of struggle, his movement stopping entirely as a final breath left him.

 

Iveona felt no sympathy for the man as she rose to her feet again, staring at him in disgust. For good measure, she gave him a swift kick, that Oblivion would take him and make him suffer for his Cannibalism. She was half tempted to spit on his corpse but she supposed that it was taking it too far. Even she had her limits when it came to the dead. Footfalls were heard from behind her, the wheezing that came with it informing her that it was only Martin. At the thought of him, her icy shell melted as the fury began to burn deep within her soul.

 

“What happened to ‘stay behind me and stay in your spot’?” She didn’t quite understand herself why she was acting in such an untoward way.

 

Perhaps the exhaustion she had been feeling for the past six months and the situation she’d been thrown into by an Emperor she didn’t even support was beginning to take its toll on her. Martin seemed taken aback by her behaviour, his face marred with a frown.

 

“The way you rushed in and when they shot you with an arrow, it looked like you were going to be killed,” Her anger increased tenfold, highly offended that someone had doubted her abilities to fight. It made her feel small and she didn’t enjoy that one bit.

 

“I was handling it,” She seethed out, her left hand curled into a fist, leaving her now numbing right arm limp. Martin sighed, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat but she didn’t allow herself to pity him.

 

“I was only trying to help,” He admitted and she almost scoffed at his self-conscious tone, her nose crinkling up in distaste at his childish behaviour. How was this man supposed to be one to rule an Empire if he didn’t even have a backbone to show for it?

 

“I didn’t ask for it, so don’t bother next time, understood?” She grit out.

 

No one in her life had ever wanted to help her, only ever wanting to do harm with her. It was something that she was so used to by now that she felt uncomfortable with the notion that someone may actually be willing to lend a hand. So she preferred to keeping to herself and away from people who wanted to “help”. Everyone always wanted something out of her if she did and she wasn’t willing to give anything. Just because Martin gave her soft eyes and kind words didn’t mean she was going to trust him, future emperor or not.  Without bothering to let him speak, she stormed off back to the hill in a blinded rage, unknowing to the melancholic stare that followed her.


	6. Infected

6

Infected

 

They had not spoken in three days.

 

Where the air had once been tense and awkward, it had become unbearable and stifling. No words passed between them, not even a single glance. When they did rest for the night after endless miles of walking, Iveona made sure that she was the furthest away from him whilst remaining within earshot, lest there be more danger on the horizon. Though she supposed that she would not be much help now by the way her body screamed at her in agony with each footstep she took. Her body still ached from the tumble down the hill but the worst of it was her arm where she knew that the arrow head was still embedded inside.

 

By now, she knew it to be infected if the pain was this unbearable and the how sick she felt. Beneath her torn leather armour her skin blazing hotter than the warmest day during Sun’s Height, the sweat that was rolling off her grey skin causing her to stick to the frayed leather. Her head and eyes pounded like a drum from the ache that had been there for the past days since the incident. Despite all the agony she was in, she didn’t want to admit defeat to her injuries, having suffered worse in the past. When she had the time, she would take the arrowhead out and it would be done. But right now, she didn’t want to waste time with something like this.

 

They had healing potions but she didn’t want to waste them on something as trivial as this. She wouldn’t dare use a healing spell, not being too fond of magic and she certainly wouldn’t allow Martin to help her. She couldn’t even look at him for she didn’t want to see his expression, knowing it would be nothing but horror and disgust over her actions. Once, Iveona was uncaring towards others reactions towards what she did to others when she worked but for whatever reason, she felt ashamed of them in front of Martin. She knew it had nothing to do with his future Emperor status, that part of him meant nothing to her, he was just a priest from Kvatch who was thrown into something he didn’t wish and she related to it more than she liked. It was something different, something like hope.

 

Hope that someone wished to get to know her. Hope that she had found someone that she could connect to more than she ever had done before. Hope that someone could be her friend. But that had diminished like a blown out candle after her acts the other day. It had caused her to remember all she had done, all the lives she had ruined because of money and doing everything for someone she thought she loved. The ugly truth was that she was a monster within Tamirel and she didn’t deserve good happenings. And she certainly didn’t deserve someone like Martin to be in her life.

 

Their slowly growing friendship was doomed to fail the moment her sinful feet had stepped into the Chapel of Akatosh but damn the Divines, she wanted to have something good in her life for once. As she continued to move she felt her eyes stinging from the pain; literal or figurative she didn’t know. In fact, her vision blurred and she knew it wasn’t from the tears for black spots dotted her vision and an unexpected wave of dizziness washed over her. She could feel exhaustion pulling her bones down and her footsteps becoming more unsteady. Behind her, she could have sworn she heard Martin call her name before she heard nothing at all.

 

The next thing she knew, she was on her side and her shoulder was throbbing like never before. A groan fell from her lips as fire flared across her wound, like someone was digging the arrowhead into her arm. Iveona attempted to move but her entire body was too weak. And she hated feeling weak. She would rather be fighting a sabre cat barehanded than feeling as she did now. The only thing she could do was open her eyes but she saw Martin and she wanted to close them again. She couldn’t be dealing with him and his kindness right now. He was a few inches away from her, kneeling down in the dirt, his blue robe stained with the dust. His face was etched with concern, his eyebrows lifting up and his lips pulled down in a frown.

 

“Iveona, what is that matter?” He wondered, anxiety clear in his voice. A hand reached over to her shoulder and she was in too much agony to move away from him.

 

When he rested his arm on her good shoulder, she felt warmth spread through her. This time, she did try to squirm away from him as he used a healing spell. If she could admit she had any fears, it was magic. It reminded her of a time from long ago that she always willed to forget and was tired of remembering. He gripped her shoulder a little tighter as she continued to weakly struggle and she could feel the energy spread across her upper body, coming closer to her worst wound. His blue eyes widened when he hit the mark, the injury refusing to heal because of the metal embedded in it.

 

“Is that from the arrow?” He questioned, his eyes becoming hard when she glanced away from him briefly in shame.

 

“Did you not think to tell me?” His voice conveyed what his eyes told and Iveona suddenly felt like a child being scolded by their mother.

 

And she hated it.

 

Iveona decided it was time to stop being a little weakling and to give as good as she got to the best of her ability.

 

“Wasn’t all that bothered,” He sighed at the bite to her words and she could see him very nearly rolling his eyes at her. The man had the greatest willpower she’d ever seen if he could prevent himself from snapping at her.

 

“I need to look at the wound, can I turn you over?” He ignored her previous words, becoming very determined to help her.

 

Her stubbornness flared up at her again, screaming at her to fight back and protest. But with another throb of her wound, her need to rid of the arrowhead overcame her stubborn nature. In defeat, she nodded her head and Martin looked at her with relief. His grip on her arm lifted, becoming gentler. It trailed down her arm, gripping her bicep with a studier grip to turn her over. As he did, a groan that she was unable to contain fell from her lips and Martin gave her an apology. However, her arm felt a lot better now that the pressure from lying on it had stopped but of course, she wasn’t going to admit that to the man.

 

As his hand fell from her arm, it hovered across her body towards her dagger. His glanced up at her then, silently asking her permission to hold her dagger that had only been thrown at the Brute the other day. Iveona nodded again, her head feeling more lightheaded with each moment. Using her weapon, her cut the leather armour from where it had been pierced by the arrow, being careful to avoid the wound.  He placed the fabric to the side when he did, a grim look befalling him when her arm was exposed. Iveona moved her head to the side to see what had caused such a reaction and nearly groaned again when she did.

 

Where her skin was once grey, it now had a dark hue around the wound. The latter of which was coated in dried blood and horrible pus that was leaking from the injury. But among the mess, she could see a piece of wood sticking out from it and she knew that arrowhead wasn’t far behind. It appeared to hurt as much as it felt.

 

“I’m going to need to take your mask off,” At that, she felt her breath leave her lungs.

 

No one was allowed to see her face; she didn’t even let herself do such a thing when she looked in the mirror. She certainly wasn’t going to let Martin, of all people, see it. She’d known the man less than two weeks, there wasn’t enough trust there for her to do so. He would deem her ugly and wish to throw her back to where she belonged. She couldn’t allow that, she just couldn’t. Martin must have seen her panic and his eyes soften, the blue like a gentle river’s stream.

 

“I promise you that I will not look, I only wish for you to avoid biting your tongue off,” Even with his logical reasoning, she still didn’t feel comfortable. Iveona would take biting her tongue off over exposing her face from all to see.

 

“Please, I won’t look,” He implored and she saw nothing but honesty in the pools of blue.

 

It was then when Iveona knew that he was nothing but the kind hearted man she had previously questioned many times. Never had anyone in her life been this consistent in their generous behaviour and she felt all suspicion about his motives. It was strange for such an epiphany to come this soon in knowing him but she supposed being alone with someone for so long tended to change things.

 

“Okay,” She replied, her voice stronger in her ears than it should have been.

 

Martin gave her a grateful smile and it was the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes, not wanting to observe him as he slipped her mask away. She could feel the heat of his hand hover over the bottom half of her face, hesitation clear above her. For now, she ignored it all, trying in vain to block out the external environment. Of course, that became harder when she felt a cool breeze on the lower half of her face. It took everything in her willpower not to freeze up and stay in that position until her mask was back on her face. It was very hard not to.

 

However, she did not feel him staring nor hear him voice his disgust that he would surely be thinking. Instead, all she felt was a tap to her chin, asking for her to open her mouth. Iveona complied, a piece of leather touching her lips, which she clamped down on using her teeth. Her breathing rate was low despite the panic that was coursing through her body at what was to come. Through her thundering ears, she heard Martin murmur an apology.

 

And then she screamed.


	7. Face

**7**   
**Face**

 

The sun had long since fallen and risen, taking its place high in the sky as it reached midday. By the shade of a large oak tree sat Martin who had black shades under his eyes, making the normal blue seem a little greyer. On his lap was Iveona's head, her eyes closed peacefully as her chest moved with slow breaths.

 

As he went to dig out the arrow head out of her shoulder earlier that day using a flaming hand, she had given an ungodly muffled scream before she had passed out. Even now, Martin still winced at the noise she'd made even though her teeth had been clamped down on a piece of leather. It was only because she had been in so much pain and it made him upset that she hadn’t chosen to admit it beforehand. By now Martin had come to the conclusion that Iveona Nethys was the most stubborn womer in all of Nirn. He still did not understand why she didn’t tell him but if she hadn’t collapsed in the middle of the road, the infection could have spread and she could have died.

 

At that thought, Martin felt a sharp pang in his chest, not quite enjoying the thought of her being in such a way. At some point, he didn’t exactly know when, Martin had come to realise that she was more to him now than being a stranger. He didn’t know what ‘more’ was but he had begun to see her as a companion, maybe even border lining a friend, even if she had given him nothing but silence since the incident a few days prior. His head moved down to stare the Iveona as she slept, no stress lines or frown in sight, and that was only from her closed eyes.

 

Once he had finished removing the arrowhead, he had instantly covered her face again, knowing that was what she would have wished. At first, he didn’t understand why her eyes grew wide in fear when he had suggested taking off her mask. It was to keep her from biting her own tongue off but a small, sick part of him really wanted to see her full face. Granted, he wanted to do it in more comfortable circumstances and when trust had fully developed between them. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

When he had fully seen her face, he could understand the fear within her eyes. Her face was horribly scarred; there were a thousand and one cuts that marred her face. It was like her second skin, the normal grey not in sight as white marks overcame it. Her lips were almost non-existent, hidden underneath all the scars. He could see them trailing down her neck, past her clothing as well. Martin felt a fire brewing in his stomach as he thought about who could do such a thing; this was no simple bear attack. All the cuts were done precisely, with careful method. It made his sick that someone had willingly done this to her, how they could do it to anyone at all. He wondered if this was what made her the cold and stoic womer she was today.

 

In way, it was sad that someone allowed that to be closed off from the world emotionally. Of course, Martin was only making assumptions on what he saw. It wasn’t at all reliable being that he didn’t know anything about her past expect that she was sent by the former Emperor himself to come and find him.

 

Martin raked his hand through her hair, the silky strands like a stream of water between his fingers. He was doing the act subconsciously, his eyes staring into the endless distance. In fact, he was so out of focus that he didn't even notice her eyes flutter open. It wasn't until something wrapped around his wrists did he notice. The grip wasn't strong but enough to halt his ministrations.

 

Instantly heat flared across his chest, travelled up his neck but he still stared in the distance, much too mortified to look at her.

 

"Martin," Her voice was rough and weak, unlike her normal deep and strong one.

 

It was enough to make him bow his head, catching her bleary eyes. They were glazed over with sleep, the normal cold surrounding them having melted off. Her hand was still wrapped around his wrist and the touch spread more wildfire through him.

 

"Yes?" His words came out strained, which he tried to cover up by coughing. He prayed to Akatosh and the Nine Divines that she wouldn't ask about what he was doing. He didn't even know what he was doing.

 

"What happened?" Martin let out a breath glad she didn't ask the question he didn't want her to. He shook himself out of his mortification, trying to remain serious.

 

"As I started to take the arrowhead out of your shoulder, you, well,” He paused at the narrowing of her eyes as she started up at him and Martin winced as he spoke.

 

“Fainted,”  


Rather than expecting anger, he felt her body freeze up instead. Her eyes blew wide in panic and the hand holding Martin’s wrist let go. Instead, it flew to her face, covered fingers pressing against the cloth that covered everything but her face. As instant as the action before, her body sagged and he heard a long sigh of relief that befell her.

 

Iveona was more awake now and her eyes turned to his again, staring at him intently. He found that there was no ice within them; instead they seemed to be warm, matching the crimson. Martin wasn't sure what to think; only ever receiving nothing but frigidity from her. He was unsure what had made her change like that; they had only known one another for two weeks now and he felt that it wasn't long enough to warrant this behaviour. He wasn't complaining of course, it was just rather odd to see her in such a way.

 

As her eyes searched his, he knew that she was trying to say something to him but he wasn't quite what. Eventually, she turned her eyes away, leaving Martin more confused than ever.

 

Iveona started to move, lifting her head from his lap before he could even blink. The act was so quick he barely had time to shoot her hands out to steady her and he was surprised a woman who had infection running through her blood could move that fast.

 

His hands came to rest on her shoulders, the muscles tensing at his touch once again. The Priest felt no irritation seep into his emotions, coming to understand that she would not simply uncoil at his touch. He would not try and change that but right now; he wanted to help her to be stable. Her elbows rested on the ground now her upper body angled and facing away from him. Martin shifted on the ground, bringing his knees to tuck underneath him; the limbs aching from where they had been stretched out. His hands moved away by an inch so that they were only hovering above her.

 

"Do you want me to..." He trailed off, asking for her permission to help her, not wanting to force her into something she did not want.

 

"No, you've done enough," The words were not spoken in the typical spice that had become associated with them.

 

Instead, they were gentler, far softer than he had ever heard her speak before. In a way, it felt like she was thanking him in her own way for he had spent enough time with her to know that she preferred actions over words. Martin swallowed, eyes fixed on the back of her head. He mulled over her words, trying to decide what to do.

 

On one hand he could leave her to it as she seemed far happier if he left her alone. But then again, he wasn’t the type of person to leave an injured person to sort themselves out; it just wasn’t in his nature. If this situation happened when they first met, then perhaps it may have been different but they were two weeks into knowing each other and he wanted to help her. Not because she wanted or needed him to but because he wanted to help her.

 

As a friend.

 

"Just let me help you, Iveona," He pleaded, his exhaustion seeping into his voice.

 

He had stayed awake throughout the night through to morning to ensure that she didn't die from her wounds. Martin used what little magicka he had left to use a frost spell and a healing spell to keep a fever from rising and it had drained a lot out of him. Not that he minded of course, he would gladly do it again.

 

She mumbled something underneath her breath before she craned her head to the side, blood eyes staring at him sharply. There was a glint of ire in them but not strong enough to make him falter, full well knowing what she was doing.

 

"You're the most annoying Man I've met, Princess, so persistent," She informed him and despite her tone, he let out a breathy chuckle at the nickname and her words. Iveona's gaze seemed to harden then and he realised that she thought he was mocking her.

 

"And you, my dear, are the most stubborn Mer I've ever met," The term of endearment slipped from his tongue before he could stop himself and he tires his best to ignore the heat rushing up his neck.

 

Though his words seemed to have some effect because the frostiness in her eyes dimmed a little and they turned away. There was a mildly awkward silence where they both looked away from each other with Martin finding a Tiger Lily in the distance particularly interesting.

 

"Fine," Came the reluctant word from Iveona and Martin snapped his gaze to her.

 

"Pardon?"

 

"You can... help me," Her tone was strained and he softened, understanding that this was difficult for her to do.

 

 So Martin decided not to tease her. Instead, he stood up and walked around so he was in front of her. He crouched down, his knees clicking as he did. Iveona watched him her eyes widening when he held out a hand towards her. His lips quirked up in a small smile, wanting to reassure her that he wasn't going to harm her. She stared at him warily, eyes flickering down to his hand and back down to his face again.

 

Slowly, she lifted her hand to reach towards his. When she was only millimetres away, she pulled her hand back in hesitation. Martin didn't push her but just kept his hand where it was hovering. After a few more seconds, he felt a cold pressure on his hand. His smile grew as her fingers curled around his and he felt his heart move that bit faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> relationship progress timee


	8. Stolen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so damn late! This chapter was a pain in the ass to write because my mind didn't want to write it but alas it's here!! A longer one too to make up for lost time 
> 
> I hope you like it!! I'm glad to see this story so well so far and I really do appreciate all the amazing comments! It's what keeps me motivated! 
> 
> Much love <3

**8**

**Stolen**

"You are pulling my leg!" Martin exclaimed.

They were nearing Weynon Priory now, the place being only another twenty minute walk away. A few more days had been added to their journey for Martin had ensured that Iveona had recovered from her injury before they could move on. He could tell that it grated against her already frayed nerves but he wanted to make sure that she was well enough to travel. He certainly didn’t want her to collapse on him again; the first time nearly gave him a heart attack, he was unsure what would happen to him if it happened a second time.

They still needed to talk about all that had happened; the festering tension that grew below the surface was beginning to put strain on the both of them. While some of it had lessened by the trust that they had both given to each other when he made sure she healed properly and her accepting his hand, it still hadn’t been quite enough to get rid of what was lingering. To put it lightly, it was infuriating. When he thought their relationship take a step forward, she took two steps back.

Martin hoped that if they got the issue out in the open, it would clear. But every time he went speak, he found himself tongue tied. He didn’t understand why, thinking that perhaps it wasn’t the right time. If that was the case, Martin hoped it would be soon for he tired of this constant mood in the air. In all honesty, it was rather draining.

Despite that, they still managed to semi-decent conversations about this that and the other. Nothing personal; neither were quite on that level yet. Currently, they were discussing where they'd been within Tamriel with Iveona informing him that she'd been too all of Tamriel's provinces.

"I'm afraid not, Princess," Martin rolled his eyes at the nickname.

He wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, rather glad she had a sense of humour within her steely exterior.

"How old are you?"

Iveona tutted and shook her head at him.

"Martin, did no one teach you that you should never ask for a lady's age?" She joked.

Martin felt a smile grow on his face, finding the sudden banter she was offering quite a refreshment from what he was used to with her.

"I just don't quite believe you? What reason could you need to travel across the continent?" He refrained himself from what he wanted to say to counter with her previous words.

They weren't quite at a level where he could cross such a line.

Not yet anyway.

Iveona turned her body around to walk backwards to face him better. She lifted her arms and angling her hands as she shrugged at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Does anyone need a reason to travel? Maybe I was bored one day. Maybe I was running from something. Who knows?" He felt his smile falter a tad, realising that she was evading the question.

He could hear the secret in her words, whispering to him, telling him that he couldn't know.

"What about you? Have you been all around Tamriel like me?" She spun his question back on him, still walking backwards.

This time with her arms crossed, body language relaxed. Even though she sounded mocking, he could tell she was interested in what he had to say. Martin felt his neck burn in embarrassment, not quite wanting to tell her we're he'd been after hearing where she had been. His travels were quite pale in comparison but nonetheless he cleared his throat.

 

"Apart from Cyrodiil I've only ever been to, uh, Valenwood," Underneath her mask, her eyebrows rose, he could tell by the shift in the fabric that covered her forehead.

"Really?" Her tone was shocked and surprised but not once did she make fun of him for it. Something which he was glad for.

"Yes, it's rather embarrassing," He admitted and Iveona only blinked at him, seemingly uncaring to his mortification.

"What stopped you from going anywhere else?" She wondered.

For a brief moment, Martin thought about being petty and keeping a tight lip about his reasons for not going elsewhere. But the thought was gone as quickly as it came, being that the man wasn't that person. Beside, everyone had their secrets and were allowed to keep them, he had to learn to respect that from her.

"Well the reason I went in the first place was a dare and it ended rather terribly," He started and Iveona listened, seemingly engrossed in his story from the way her eyes remained glued to him.

"Valenwood is near Kvatch, only across a short river, about an hour if you use a boat. My friends and I were bored one day and we all dared each off to cross the river. Myself and another went along with it. I mainly did it because I knew it would irritate my father. Anyway, we got across the border and traveled a few miles more. But we stumbled across a group of bandits and at the time, my friend and I were only fifteen years old so we ran back to our boat. We lost the bandits thank the Nine but the pair of us were shitting ourselves,"

At his vulgar language, Iveona gave a breath that sound full of mirth. Martin paused in his speech, a small smile grew on his face as Iveona showed him that she wasn't the closed off, cold Dunmer that she tried to make herself out to be. Rather than commenting, he kept smiling and continued.

"We got on our boat and desperately paddled across to the other side where our friends were waiting and well, my father,"

At that mention of his father, Iveona's eyes widened comically, another breath of laughter befalling her.

Something in Martin's chest tugged.

"My father was fuming! In all my years at the time I'd never seen the man quite the furious. It was safe to say after he told us all off I didn't risk ever going anywhere out of Cyrodiil ever again, I was too terrified to face my fathers wrath again. As I grew older I never really found the time and well, here I am now," He finished, rubbing the back of his neck in a bashful like fashion.

When he turned to face Iveona, he found the corners of her eyes crinkled, pronouncing her crows feet. It was the look in her eyes that made the smile grow back on his face again. Gone was the ice that normally encased her crimson eyes, instead they were sparkling with mirth, the colour becoming clear.

"What was your father's name?"

"Basilius,"

The suddenly, Martin came to a realisation. One that almost left him astounded. The tug at his chest came back again and he realised it felt like relief. Relief that she didn't correct him on who his father was, didn't question how he felt about his situation. Instead, she called him what Martin came to know the man who raised him as. And for that he was grateful.

He had come to realise that Iveona didn't much care for this title of his, she treated him like he was still a normal priest from Kvatch. It was only a matter of time before he had to face reality and become what the world wanted him to be.

Even if he was terrified of it. The whole concept left him afraid and wanting to run away from it all. Would he forget himself? Would he forget about what he was now? What he used to be?

Martin certainly hoped not, he never wanted to forget where he came from. Where he was raised in the quiet, green fields of his fathers farm.

But before he could ponder any longer a scream ripped through the air like a violent gust of air.

A scream from the distance pulled Martin from his thoughts and the pair of them froze. For Iveona it became a bit more literal for what ever shine he had seen moments ago began to cool again. Her shortly carefree behaviour froze up, her thick shell coming back again, leaving Martin disappointed. Her eyes scanned the horizon, as though trying to figure out where it had come from. The posture she held in her body told him that this was something that she had done many times before.

It unnerved him.

The scream came again this time closer. Martin went to jolt into action, his feet going to rush forward on their own accord but a pressure on his stomach. He looked down to see Iveona's arm blocking his path and he turned to stare at her incredulously. She was observing him indifferently and he went to ask her why they weren’t going forward when there was trouble on the horizon. Iveona held a hand up, telling him to wait and so he did. He trusted her enough to come up with a plan.

Sure enough, a Dunmer came running down the hill with a figure clad in metal and red chasing the Mer. Instantly, Martin felt the hairs rise on his neck when he saw the latter figure. Their appearance was daunting and he felt somewhat paralysed in fear. But before he could freeze on the spot, Iveona’s arm moving brought him back into action.

"Watch my back," Was all she said before she sprinted into action.

He didn't question her this time, glad that she wasn't pushing him behind.

So he watched as she sprinted towards them, her dual blades being unsheathed from where they were held at the sides of her hips. Martin kept up in a light jog, not wanting to lose them. The male Dunmer took one good look at Iveona as she raced towards him and let out another scream. Only this time, he took a sharp left towards the nearby bushes. The red and black clad figure turned their attention to Iveona then, weapons poised as they hurtled at full force towards each other.

Martin suck in air, his upper form moving up with his breath. Just as they neared each other, Iveona ducked down, all but crouching on the ground with one leg stuck out straight. She spun around then, sweeping her leg to knock the attacker off their feet. The moment they were down and on their back, Iveona pounced onto her opponent. She placed on bent knee on their chest then drove her dagger through their head.

The act didn't alarm him, rather the sudden swirl of red that wrapped around the fallen foe. Their armour faded, revealing them to be wearing a single hooded red robe. Iveona pulled her blade from their skull, wiping the blood on the robe.

"Shit, they're here," He heard Iveona mumble and he started forward, trying to ignore the dead body.

"Who is?"

Iveona turned her head to face Martin, her eyes grave within the ice.

"The Mythic Dawn,"

Martin felt a chill rundown his spine, knowing that this was Dagon's cult. The cult that wanted to release a monster from the plains of Oblivion to destroy all that they knew. The cult that killed the former Emperor. The cult that were now here to kill him.

He tried not to panic, he really did try but he could see the chaos ahead. Smoke billowed from the Priory's building, flames illuminating the darkening sky. The whinning of terrified horses could be heard. The scream from the running Dunmer was still ringing in his ears. It all left him short of breath, making his fingertips tingle in anxiety.

All this was happening because of him. Because he was the biological child of a man who prevented the Mythic Dawn from achieving their goal. He had figured out that the Gate at Kvatch was probably a way to kill him and they hadn't succeeded but somehow they had figured out he was here now and they were hear to finish the job.

"Princess!" The shout broke him out of his spiralling thoughts and he snapped his head towards her.

"What?!" He yelled in fright, having not expected her to call him like that.

"What ever you're thinking, enough. They aren't here for you, they're here for the Amulet of Kings," She explained, something akin to anger creeping into her voice.

Martin felt his anxiety lessen but not by much. It lingered in the corners of his mind, his previous thought still egging him on. Iveona reached forward with her elven dagger in hand, fingers outstretched. Just before his bicep, she hesitated, much like had when he offered his hand. Only this time it was her taking action.

After a few more seconds of decision flashing across her eyes and Martin waiting with bated breath, she finally brushed against his arm. The touch was only brief however but enough to bring him back to the task and the action at hand. Even if it was a small gesture. Her fingers curled around her dagger a little tighter than before, the grey skin peeking out from her ruined gloves turning a few shades lighter.

"Just... just stay as close to me as you can," she mumbled, something in her tone he didn't quite understand. Iveona turned around and moved towards the burning Priory and Martin followed her carefully.

So the paired travelled into the roaring chaos of whatever was left of Weynon Priory, both afraid of what their previous and future actions would come to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finally moving on to the next leg of the quest and story woo!


	9. Road

**9**   
**Road**

The sun was low against a canvas of purples, oranges and yellows, the colours all blurring together as it signalled the approaching dusk. As the sun fell, so did the temperature. Three figures rode on horses in a somber silence. All being occupied in their own thoughts about what happened at the Priory.

The Amulet of Kings had been stolen with the consequence of Prior Maborel's death. Jauffre had been pleased to have Martin present at least. He didn't hold the same reaction when he saw her for that was another story altogether. The Blademaster looked at her in disgust and distain, as though silently wondering why on Nirn she was still around. If it wasn't for her, Martin wouldn't even be here. If it wasn't for her, none of this would be happening.

Well that she knew of.

But Iveona had given back as good as she got. She stared Jauffre down whenever he made a passing comment and she could tell that it frightened him more than he let on.

Good.

She didn't have time for people like that. People who looked down on others because they saw them as lesser than themselves. Just because Jauffre was the leader of soldiers who protected an Emperor didn't make him better than her. Everyone, deep down; race, gender or otherwise were all on the same level. She didn't much care status or what a person had or was. All she cared about is what they were like as a person. If they were self-righteous or had their own head up their own ass, she didn't spare them a glance.

It was the people who cared, the people who wanted to make the world a different place were the ones who mattered. At first, she considered herself such a person through the work she was doing, what she had done before she'd taken up work. But as time went on, she came to realise she wasn't what she thought. She wasn't someone who was going to change the world, she was someone who was tainting it, making it all bleaker. Those thoughts had caused her to end up in the situation she was in now.

It was someone else.

Someone like Martin.

Discreetly, she angled her head to better look at him as he sat behind her (there had only been two horses left alive so Martin and Iveona shared one) His eyes were closed, a peaceful expression. The wind raked through his greying hair and he seemed to be content.

She face forward again, not want to be caught staring.

Iveona had come to realise that Martin truly was a good man. At first, she thought his kindness was a way to get something out of her. When people gave help they expected something in return. It was a philosophy that many lived by, even herself thought that way. But after he had healed her and continued to want to help her when she had been injured by the arrow made her change her mind. He had been gentle and patient, something she had long since thought didn't exist anymore, let alone be shown to her. Such people like Martin were rare in this world so it had taken her some time to come to an epiphany.

It left her at a loss about how to feel. Emotions for her were difficult, she found that most of the time it was much easier to shut it all in. Emotions had led to the cruel, unloving hand of her parents. At the age of five she had taught herself to become an emotionless husk if she wanted to survive. Even though it hadn't worked in the end with what her parents did to her. it had stuck and shaped her into the Mer she was today.

While she was not exactly proud of what she was today, it was all that she knew herself to be. So everything that was going on now left her more confused about who she was more than ever. Though she much preferred if she didn't have an identity crisis in the middle of another crisis, it was very inconvenient. Plus, it was beginning to make her head pound.

There was a sudden cough from behind her that jolted her from her thoughts, causing her to wipe her head to the side to stare at Martin. The man seemed just as surprised as she felt for his eyes were wide with confusion.

"Are you alright?" He wondered, eyebrows raised in concern. Without hesitation, she nodded, not wanting to seem like she had been caught off guard.

"Yes, just fine. Is there an issue?" She threw back to turn the attention away from herself, lest he start asking more questions.

"There is actually," This time, it was her turn to raise her eyebrows, unsure as to what the issue could be. Iveona inclined her head to prompt him to continue.

"Do you have anything I could hold onto? Because I feel like I'm about to fall off the horse," His olive skin turned a shade darker as he spoke and Iveona felt the corner of her lips twitch up from underneath the cloth.

Did a request such as that really make him so uncomfortable? Why didn't he say anything earlier if this caused him this much grief?

Iveona pulled against the horse's reins and the horse gave a sound before slowing down. With one hand holding onto the strap, she twisted her body around so that she was better facing him. When she did, she extended the reins towards him in offering.

Martin's eyes turned down to the straps and back up at her again.

"Only if you're sure?" He sounded meek and Iveona rolled her eyes, her lips widening into a smile that he couldn't see.

The corner of her eyes crinkled and she could feel her crows feet creasing as she next spoke.

"Well we wouldn't want you to crack your pretty little head open would we?" She quipped and Martin gave a breathy laugh, the shade of his skin deepening even more. It was beginning to become endearing.

"So you think I have a pretty head?" Iveona nearly let out a groan at the cheek he was giving her.

For a man who could barely even look at her, let alone talk to her three weeks ago, he was doing well now. If she was honest, she found the humour a little refreshing with the majority of people she knew having lacked any sense of humour. And it was nice to bounce off of that as well, despite how much she tried to keep her emotions hidden away. She knew that she should, it would be easier that way but she found that she couldn't help herself. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself otherwise.

"Take the rein before I push you off this godsdamn horse, Martin,"

He laughed at her again, this time, a deep chuckle that she thought was rumble from his chest.

"As you wish," He teased as he held onto the reins that she passed over to him, securing his hand around the rope.

Iveona turned again, shuffling forwards as much as she could. She told herself it was so that she could hold onto the pommel of the saddle but she knew the real reason why.

To put as much distance between herself and Martin as possible. By now her shyness over physical contact probably seemed ridiculous but she couldn't care less.

Right?

Regardless, touching was a difficult thing for her to even think about so she tried to divert her thoughts or her attention to something else completely.

Her eyes rose from the chestnut hair of the horse to the horizon before her. In the far distance, she could see the outline of Bruma and just beyond that the Mountains that led to Skyrim. She didn't give much thought to the latter, her focus going to Bruma instead. She had only been to Bruma once and that had been on business, so she hadn't taken much thought to the City. Iveona would have to be discreet when there, knowing that the Khajiit whom she had once met most likely still lived there.

But she was the master of such a task so she would breeze through the City. All she needed was a new set of armour, weapons and a mask to fully cover her face. The flimsy piece of fabric was doing little to hide her face and if there was a strong gust of wind, it would blow the scrap off her face. And she didn't want that.

Bruma also meant reaching the Cloud Ruler Temple which was something else she was unsure how to feel about. The more she thought about the fate they approached, the more the empty feeling in her stomach grew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this was more of a filler than anything but guysss the next fee chapters coming up are what I've been looking forward to since I started this story omg im so excited!


	10. Cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is by far the best chapter I think I've written and I'm very proud of it lmao! 
> 
> Next chapters coming up are something I've been wanting to write since I started this story so yeah! Looking forward to it!
> 
> Thanks to all comments and kudos!
> 
> Much love <3

**10**

**Cloud**

The Chapel was silent, a soothing sort that put someone's mind to ease. Sunlight streamed through the stain glass windows, painting the floors and walls in multiple colours. Martin was alone within the Chapel, knelt down at the altar with his head resting against his clasped hands. His greying brown hair covered his face, shielding his face from view.

After a near month of endless travel, Martin was finally had a moment to himself. Not that he minded the company of course, it was just sometimes being alone did everyone some good. When they had arrived in Bruma, he had wanted to just seek comfort within his religion. Jauffre had protested of course but had given in when Iveona had suggested they meet at the Statue in an hour, reasoning that she had some things to do. He had smiled at her and she gave him a secretive wink back.

What Martin found to be ironic was that the Chapel was that of Talos, the God being his distant relative. Even though it had been a while since he had found out the news, he still couldn't wrap his head around it all. But with Cloud Ruler Temple only minutes away, he was hit was just how real the situation was. It was a dream. He was going to rule an Empire; he was going to make long lasting decisions that affecting the world. To say it was a little daunting was an understatement.

He wondered if his father, the one who raised him, the one who loved him, would be proud of what he was doing. When Iveona came into the Chapel, he could have turned her away and told her to find another Emperor but he didn't. His father had taught him better than that. He shaped him into the man he was today. Basilius would have done anything for anyone despite whom they were or where they had come from, the traits of a good man. He was a brilliant role model and the best father Martin could have asked for. Even when knowing who Martin truly was, the man had shown him care and love, something he imagined they wouldn’t have receive from anyone else.

When he was younger and more rebellious, Martin hadn't truly appreciated all that his father did for him. His father died due to an illness, one that magic couldn't heal. But Martin had stayed by his bedside the best he could before it became too much. At the time, death was new to him, so watching your only family die was a little harder than he would have liked. With his death came Martin's never ending regret. Regret that he didn't tell his father that he loved him more. Regret that he didn't spend more time. Regret that he didn't listen.

Martin wished that he was here with him now, to guide him but he supposed he was grown up now, he had to straighten up. No matter how hard it was.

He supposed he had Jauffre to tell him what to do, after all the man knew Uriel Septim so he may have some inkling on what to do. The issue was that Martin was still wary; he didn't know the man well enough to trust him with his thoughts and feelings. The only person he trusted enough was Iveona and even that was difficult for he didn't receive much in return.

Martin didn't dwell on such thoughts telling himself, that he had done so numerous times before, that her privacy was her own. It wasn't his fault that curiosity often got the best of him.

There was a loud bang from beside him, startling him out of his thoughts and prayers. It made him shoot up from his knelt position, his head whipping around to search for the origin of the noise. Near a pew was Dunmer, various objects scattered across her feet. Martin relaxed slightly, realising that he was just startled over nothing. Without a word, Martin moved over to help the womer. She watched him with wide eyes, something shining in them that he didn't quite understand. But it disappeared as he drew nearer and Martin wondered if he had seen at it all. He brushed that off, giving her a gentle smile for the womer seemed awfully frightened.

"Here let me," He offered and her grey cheeks darkened as he knelt down to help collect her things.

The Dunmer soon followed suit, her ginger woman hair masking her face.

"You don't..." She started, her voice small and meek, eyes hidden behind her hair.

"I insist...?" He trailed his words off to form a question, curious as to what her name was.

"Saveri. Saveri Faram," She gave and Martin maintained his smile.

Martin bowed his head, inclining it towards her a tad.

"Well then, I insist I help, Saveri,"

If anything, her face deepened a shade darker at his words and he had to prevent laughter from escaping himself. It was clear as a midday sky that she was certainly... bashful around him. For whatever reason, he found humour in it rather than the embarrassment that would normally follow in such situations. Nonetheless, he thought nothing more of it as he began to collect her things.

On the floor was a mess of books, paper and quills. Briefly, he caught the titles of the books; ranging from the History of the Empire to a Guide to Bruma and other non-essentials. There was even a book on the Amulet of Kings, which struck him as odd given the time and what had happened only a few days prior. A sudden niggling feeling started to manifest as the back of his mind, lack a seed of doubt had been planted. Just as he reached for a black book with red edging, all of the belongings were snatched away from him.

Martin blinked in surprise, the act unexpected and leaving him unsure how to react. Instead, he rose to his full height again, his eyes meeting Saveri's sheepish face. Her face was meek still but he found it a little hardened. She gave him a smile that came in the form of a wince more than anything.

"My apologies, just some private things," She informed him and Martin simply nodded.

But he could hear something more within her tone, a type that was familiar to him due to his time spent with Iveona this past month. At that thought, Martin thought it be best to return to the pair to make sure neither had killed each other. He had noticed that they didn't seem to enjoy each other's company.

"If you will excuse me, Miss Faram," He bowed his head in goodbye to which she blinked owlishly at him.

Martin did not wait for her reply and took his leave, heading towards the Chapel doors closet to the Statue. He could feel Saveri's eyes on him, practically burning holes into his back. As he reached the door, he discreetly angled his head back to glance at her only to find that she had vanished. Martin paused just before he left, staring at the spot were she stood only moments ago, a little confused.

After a few seconds, he shook it off, putting the entire interaction in the back of his mind. It was all probably nothing; his mind addled with paranoia and exhaustion certainly did not help matters. A warm bed after many months was just what he needed. He mused on such thoughts he pushed the heavy wooden door open. Sunlight streamed through, blinding him momentarily.

He lifted a hand to cover his eyes to allow them to adjust as he shut chapel door behind him. Once they were used to the sun light, he lowered his arm to find Jauffre and Iveona by the statue. It was something he was grateful for as it meant they were able to make the last leg of their trek to finally reach Cloud Ruler Temple.

Neither had noticed him come out of the Chapel so he observed them for a moment. Both were standing as far away from each other as they possible, even going as far to face away from each other. Iveona was angled in his direction, while Jauffre was facing the steps.

Whilst Jauffre seemed at ease, Iveona's form was practically rigid, as though she had been frozen to the spot. Such behaviour he had only seen when he had first met her and he felt a frown deepen on his face. He approached them, feet crunching against the snow.

It was only Jauffre that reacted when he drew nearer, the Blademaster swiftly moving towards him. As he did, it blocked Martin's view from Iveona, the womer still frozen.

"Ah Martin, brilliant, let us go lest the snow cause us to be stuck here," Martin nodded in understanding but didn't follow Jauffre as the latter made his move towards the Gate.

Instead, Martin paused, turning back to face Iveona. He felt worry seep through at her unresponsive nature, finding it stranger than usual. What had been said while he was gone? Had the two argued? Had Jauffre said something to upset her? Martin didn't question it however, leaving them for another time.

"Iveona?" The call of her name from his lips seemed to shake her out from her stupor.

She turned her head towards him, though her face was shrouded by her hood. Even her eyes were hidden from him, something that made him uncomfortable. He had found that her eyes were the window into her soul and he could easily read her through them. But with them hidden, he was unsure now, at a loss.

"Are you well?" He wondered and he tried not to let his concern drip through his tone too much.

"Yes," She answered much too quickly, "Let us be off,"

Iveona motioned for him to walk, indicating that she would follow in his footsteps. Martin nodded in return, lips pursing at her behaviour. Just before he turned his head forward as to follow his feet, he saw her glance back towards the Chapel. Briefly, he followed her line of gaze, finding only Saveri whispering to a Redguard woman along a Kahjiit, dressed in black robes, leaving against the Chapels walls.

Martin thought nothing on it, facing forward as a lump built up in his throat about what was to come.

* * *

 

They had finally reached Cloud Ruler Temple. After the endless journey, they had reached the final destination. Martin expected relief to come but he found nothing if not, emptiness. He was unsure why but he supposed the answer would come to him soon enough. As for now, all he could do was stare at the Temple in awe.

Despite its name, it was more like a fortress than a temple. Grey walls stood tall, looming and daunting in nature. Large wooden doors were in the middle; many intricate cravings embedded on it. The walls blocked out his view from what was inside but he sure that it was just as beautiful as the outside.

He was so engrossed in his surroundings that he didn't notice the wooden doors fly open and several blades spill out. In the corner of his eye, he saw a Redguard approach them, his head snapping in Martin's direction.

"My-my Lord!"

Despite how much he willed his body not to, he was unable to prevent it from tensing at the words. It made him uncomfortable for it was something he was not used to. By that he meant he was nothing but a commoner, a Priest, a man not an Emperor with dragon's blood running through his veins. He could turn back right now, he could run off over the Jerral mountains. Maybe he could go to Skyrim; it was far too cold and no one would want to follow him. What if he tried going out of Tameril? What if...

He was startled out from his thoughts, much like earlier but this time it was a much gentler interruption. It came as a soft touch on his hand and he look down. A hand was slowly curling its fingers around his palm, thumb going underneath, to rest on his knuckles.

Martin followed the arm, his eyes meeting the concerned ones of Iveona. He startled again slightly, hoping that it didn't show. He was mainly taken aback because she had remained silent their entire journey from Bruma onwards and even as he tried to converse, it had fallen on deaf ears. So he had left her to it, realising that she was engrossed within her thoughts.

As he shook the cloud from his head, he could feel the warmth of her hand seeping through to his own skin. It was odd, he thought her hands would be much cooler to match the ice often frozen within her eyes.

"You will be fine," She assured him.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he even realised he had formed them and his eyes stung painfully. Subconsciously, he curled his fingers around her hand.

"How can you be so sure? I have no idea what I’m doing, how am I supposed to lead this when I’ve been nothing but a Priest and a-”

“Martin, enough,” The ferocity in her voice was enough to silence his rant and he was throw away by the flames that licked in her eyes.

The only time he had ever seen her this way was in the forest when the Bandits had attack. He squeezed her hand, hoping to cause flicker in the fire to put it out. Yet he found that it poked the embers, causing it to flare more.

"You are a kind, generous man, who will go on to do great things for all of Tamriel. While this may not be what you want, Azura knows that wouldn't wish this upon you more than the rest of the world has, it is time to shape a new future for the greater good,"

"You could have run when you had the chance, to escape the path that was forced upon you when you least expected it. You could have stayed in the Chapel to cower. But you did neither of those things and it shows that you are far braver than most Men in this world,"

"You are a good man Martin, now stop doubting yourself, just be who you have been for your whole life and it will be fine,"

Her words left him speechless and the burning sensation in his eyes prickled again. His vision blurred, Iveona's form became unclear to him. Such words left him astounded, especially since it came from Iveona. In all the time he'd known her, he wouldn't have expected her to talk to him in such a kind and carefully manner. All he knew her to be was aloof and at rare times humorous. Perhaps she had only said such things to bring him confidence but the way she had spoken, what she had spoken, it left him at a loss.

Before he could even respond to her, he felt another, more urgent hand on his shoulder. And just like the moment between them was gone as he turned to face Jauffre and the many Blades that stood before him. He rapidly blinked the moisture out from his eyes, hoping none of them had seen.

"Come, let us go," Was all Jauffre said before the man tugged Martin forward.

In doing so, Martin's grip on Iveona hand fell and his fingers slipped out from hers, his hand feeling colder than before. As he moved forward, the Blades surrounded him, creating a barrier between him and Iveona. He tried to turn back to see if she was following but had to turn to be able to ascend the steps.

From behind the sea of warriors, the Dunmer didn't move. Instead she could only watch as Martin was whisked away into the warmth of the Temple and she was left alone at the bottom of the steps.

Flakes of ice fell from the sky, landing all around Iveona, some even settling on her worn and torn clothes. One snowflake brushed across her eye, causing her to blink. When she opened them again, they were cooled to the temperature around her. A hand at her side curled around into a fist, nails begging to rip through the fabric of her half destroyed armour.

She turned her head to the right, not wanting to stare but as she did so, she missed Martin angling his head to search for her with a forlorn expression.

 


	11. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,, uh, been a while huh? I've started Uni now and there has been loads of really shite stuff that's gone on in my life that's effected me mentally and along with no inspiration and writer's block, it's been tough. But I got back into playing Skyrim and it's inspired me to write more as I figure out the sequel to this (which I'm excited about) and my friend is supporting me as my beta reader so shoutout to them! So I will try to keep this inspiration going because this story and Martin and Iveona means a lot to me! Without further ado, here's a pretty expolsive chap I'm pleased about!  
> Enjoy <3

The fire crackled and popped, spitting sparks that fell to the ash at the bottom of the fireplace. Martin sat on the floor with his legs crossed facing the warmth, the orange glow illuminating his inquisitive face, a book about the Amulet of Kings in his left hand. The other was curled into a fist, his chin resting atop it as blue bleary ages wearily read the pages, words beginning to blur together. Nonetheless, Martin was determined to get at least halfway through tonight, the theories about how the Amulet came to be intriguing him to no end.

One such theory described that the heart of the Amulet contained the blood of Akatosh himself and Martin had found humour within it, considering that he was a Priest of Akatosh before he learned of his true heritage. It seemed the Father Divine played a large role in his life. But it wasn’t purely read for pleasure, rather he wanted to learn more about what it meant to be Emperor, there was no point delaying the inevitable of who he was destined to become. 

He was alone as he read save for his bodyguard who lingered beside a pillar near the west wing, all the other Blades had retired for the night, the excitement of his arrival having worn them all out. Apparently, it had been the first time in years since an Emperor had visited the Temple and it showed how they wouldn’t stop staring at him in awe that made him a little more than uncomfortable.

Martin snuck a glance at the Redguard stationed behind him out of the corner of his eye, Baurus was his name. Earlier, when Martin had given his speech, Baurus had volunteered to be his bodyguard while he resided at Cloud Ruler Temple. In his shock, he had thanked the man with an awkward air surrounding them all when he had. Martin himself felt a little uncomfortable as well, knowing next to nothing about Baurus. While he knew that his intentions were good, he wasn’t the one Martin wanted to keep him safe. He had a certain womer in mind, the one that he trusted the most amongst the strange and unfamiliar faces of the Blades around him.

His brow furrowed, the words on the page before him became meaningless as his thoughts drew him away. She’d been missing all afternoon and when supper had come, which she hadn’t shown up to, he’d questioned the Blademaster who sat beside him at the great table. Jauffre had tensed when he did, tightly telling him that Iveona had gone to use the Bath House, complaining about her shoulder. Baurus had scoffed on Martin’s other side when he had asked if she was alright after that to which Martin had given him a stern look that quickly shut him up. When Jauffre had no more answers to give him, the Imperial ate his food in thought, wanting to check on her but not wanting to disturb her peace. Given Jauffre and Baurus’ reactions, she didn’t seem to be very well liked by them and the other Blades seemed wary of her as well.

The tension between the Blademaster and the Dunmer stood out to him the most, significantly showing when they were on the road. One night when they had made camp before reaching Bruma and he had gone to rest while the two had kept watch only too wake up to the pair staring daggers at each other. Jauffre had given him a lousy excuse at it, claiming they were discussing the Blades but he could see it in Iveona’s eyes that it was far from the truth. The scene reflected a similar one outside the Chapel this morning and it all honestly reminded him of two squabbling children.

Regardless of his inner thoughts, he wanted to seek her out, to see if she was alright. If he was completely honest, he missed her company, having become so accustomed to it as they traveled the road. Martin closed the book, a snap echoing across the main hall and gently placed it by his side on top his other collection of books. He stood up then, brushing the front of his robes to rid of any creases that may have folded as he sat. The Imperial turned then, finding Baurus standing with a straight and tense posture, hands were hidden behind his back and his elbows bent. He approached him, and the man seemed to tense further, the glow of the fading fire illuminating a rigid jaw and veins more pronounced on his neck. The former Priest chose not to focus on that, instead wanting to ask him a simple question.

"Baurus, do you know where Iveona is?"

The Blade turned to him, an expression etched with confusion, brown eyes seemingly lost in turn causing Martin to do the same.

"Who?"

Martin felt a flare of fury flash through him then but tried to suppress it in his expression by pressing his lips together in a thin line, a slight crinkle forming on his forehead. For someone who seemed to so vehemently disliked Iveona like Baurus did, he would have thought he would’ve known her name.

"The womer who arrived with me and Jauffre this afternoon," His tone was calm as he brushed the short burst of anger within, knowing that the heaviness to his eyes and the pounding in his head broke his composure slightly. It had been a very long day and it was weighing him down more than he would like.

Baurus’ lip twitched then, his upper lip lifting as it tried to turn into a snarl and there was a strain on his face to withhold the clear disgust he felt. Martin drew back slightly, not liking his reaction as Baurus finally realised who he was asking about. He wondered why Iveona had done that had made Baurus despise her so. The Redguard cleared his throat, his expression and his mannerisms turning professional again.

“I assume she would be resting your Majesty, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t already left like Blademaster Jauffre had commanded her to by morning,”

Martin’s brow furrowed at the last few words, uncaring to the use of his title that he would have chastised it but his confusion at Baurus’ statement took over.

“What reason could Jauffre have in sending her away?” He questioned again, wanting to understand what was going on.

He felt like he was missing something. Baurus turned then, fully meeting him with a concerned gaze, his own brow furrowed.

“I thought Blademaster Jauffre had told you?”

At the shake of Martin’s head in the gesture of no, Baurus continued.

“Earlier he told her that when you all reached Cloud Ruler Temple, she would be allowed to rest for the night but leave the next morning. She’s a danger to you sire, probably as much as the Mythic Dawn is,” He explained.

Martin’s forehead crinkled as his frown deepened further, perplexment as clear as the skies in the Mid Year. What danger was she to him? The comparison to the cult seemed to be a bit too extreme based on what he’d witnessed from her in this past month. Iveona had done nothing but keep him safe, images of Bandits in the woods and the Mythic Dawn at Weynon Priory flooding his mind, how she’d risked her life to make sure no harm came to him. She’d gone through the Gates of Oblivion to rescue him and bring him to safety, he knew such a feat wasn’t easy to accomplish from the rumours he’d heard of what was inside. He saw no such danger there but rather a protector. Jauffre’s cause to send her away seemed absurd and he felt more than peeved that he hadn’t even checked with him first. After all, wasn’t he supposed to be the Emperor?

Baurus launched into a brief tale then that began with escorting Uriel Septim through the Imperial Prison, after his sons had been assassinated, to a secret passage within one of the cells. To Martin’s shock, Baurus informed him that Iveona was a prisoner in that cell, which wasn’t supposed to be occupied to begin with. Nonetheless, the Emperor had insisted that she join them, saying that she was destined to be apart of this, having seen her in his dreams. Much to all the Blades' chagrin, she'd joined them, and Uriel had kept her close, giving her a weapon and piece of cloth, the latter she had used to cover her face. Eventually, the Blades had become separated, Iveona and the Emperor disappearing and Baurus soon found them. Martin grimaced as he was told Uriel Septim lay in a pool of his own blood with a Mythic Dawn assassin looming over him, the Amulet of Kings gone with Iveona cowered in the corner. Once Baurus had slain the assassin, Baurus had attacked Iveona, the womer staring at him blankly, not daring to retaliate as she repeated Jauffre over and over until Baurus had given up. The Emperor had supposedly entrusted Iveona with the Amulet of Kings, saying it was her fate to deliver it and find his last son. 

_I’m no Blade. I’m no hero. I’m no one, just someone who was there at the wrong time._

While the story revealed what he had not known previously, it didn’t enlighten him how she was dangerous to him. Yes, she had been a prisoner within the Imperial Prison but Uriel Septim the Seventh had trusted her, keeping her close to him and placing an unwavering faith in her to complete a task that determined the fate of the Empire and Tamriel. He had detected a hint of bitterness as Baurus described the task, sounding betrayed that the Emperor had chosen her over a Blade, the very people who swore to protect him. But Uriel seemed to cling to the destiny he believed Iveona had, uncaring to her past.

“But I don’t understand, how could she be a danger to me?” There was a hint of desperation in his normal calm tone as he tried to understand while not having the whole truth.

Conflict flashed across Baurus’ once stoic face, his eyes turning away from Martin’s questioning gaze, as though he didn’t want to reveal the answer, having revealed too much already. Martin kept his stare, practically burning holes into the side of the Redguard’s face. A sigh escaped him, turning back to the Imperial, clearly unable to refuse the future Emperor.

“After everything happened I went back to the Prison for her records, found out she was in there for murdering a Wood Elf in Bravil, rumours of it being an assassination. So, I collected her belongings and found some funny looking red and black armour, seemed well organised. I reported my findings back to Jauffre, telling him my concerns and well…” He trailed off then, eyes locking onto Martin’s wide ones.

“It’s the armour of the Dark Brotherhood,”

A pause. A blink of the eye.

“She could just be a lackey, could be a leader, we don't know. But Jauffre didn't want to risk your safety. Gave her the option to leave to clear her name or to stay and go back to the Imperial Prison so they could find out more about the Brotherhood,”

Martin shivered at the obvious implication of what it meant if she went back to the Imperial Prison, his skin dotted with quickly rising goosebumps. But the revelation that she was a supposed member of the Dark Brotherhood brought him back to the present and he swallowed thickly, his throat feeling tight. He didn’t know much about the Dark Brotherhood expect that they were a cult that assassinated in the name of a Daedric Prince or something along the line.

She was an assassin.

Assassins were the type of people threatened his life now, who had taken the life of his biological father to serve a Daedric Lord. He understood now the comparison and he felt his face flush hot, feeling a fool for not knowing. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Her closed-off behaviour, her hidden face, the way she seemed to merge in the shadows, how she took down her targets with speed like he'd never seen before. Perhaps the most significant image that came across his mind was when he had approached her after she and the bandit had stumbled down the hill, how he had witnessed the emotionless glaze in her eye as she'd murdered the Bandit, her body telling him that she'd done this before. It all made sense what she was, what her past was.

Martin tried to find any semblance of anger within him, tried to find an awful part of him that wanted to spit at her feet, to scold her, to scream at her for being apart of something so evil and demonic. But there was nothing because who was he to do such a thing.

Many, many years ago, just after his father died when he was nineteen, he had gone to an extremely dark place. He came to depend heavily on alcohol for a source of comfort as he found himself lost in a world that felt far too empty and big now that his father was no longer in it. One day, he had woken up with a staff adorned with a beautiful crystal rose for its head, cultists at his feet. They had looked up to him, telling him that he was a Champion.

From that point on, he spent the next few years of his life dedicating himself to sex, booze, and drugs. He and his cult, the people he had then come to call family, would go around Taverns in Cyrodiil to terrorise patrons and steal all the alcohol they could in the name of debauchery. Sometimes their actions had led to a death, sometimes even by his own hand. But one day, it had all gone too far, and Martin smashed the staff to pieces, never looking back. Instead, he had returned to Kvatch, seeking to redeem himself. A priest, an old family friend had helped him overcome his sins in the eyes of Akatoshm which led him to become a Priest. From that point on he made it his mission to help people atone for their own personal sins and to guide themselves down a brighter path.

So truly who was he to judge when Iveona seemed to be going down the path he had, the similarities were all very striking and he felt that he needed to find her before it was too late. A breeze of cool mountain air brushed his olive cheeks and raking through his brown hair, making him realise that his thoughts had carried him all the way outside. He kept walking, his eyes at his feet, wanting to place a lot of distance between himself and the Temple, needing to spend some time alone as he tried to collect his thoughts. However, he was so engrossed in his thoughts he missed the figure that was moving swiftly through the shadows until they bumped into each other. The other figure stumbled backward while Martin tripped on one of the training mats, falling flat on his ass, a flare of pain flashing on his injured rear.

“You should watch where you’re going Princess,”

He snapped his head up at the muffled voice, but he could tell who it belonged to miles away. Iveona loomed above him a gloved hand out but Martin hesitated to take it as he took in her attire. She wore light brown thigh length boots with the rest of her legs covered in black leather various straps dotted around to hold her trousers securely into place. Her upper body was much the same in terms of colour, leather gauntlets that went up to her elbow, her hands covered. After her elbow was thicker black leather that covered her upper arms, her chest and falling down to her waist. Red cloth flared around her hips, peeking out from under her leather armour, brown straps attached with two sheathed daggers at her side. Perhaps what threw him off the most was the large metal mask that hid her face completely from his, the mask only having slits for eyes, preventing him from seeing the crimson eyes that would tell him how she felt. In fact, with every part of her completely hidden, she felt closed off from him and it made him uneasy. He took her hand without saying anything, finding himself at a loss for words that ceased further when he saw a pack tightly secured to her back. Her hand started to slip from his and he curled his fingers around his palm which caused her to freeze, cold hand stiff in his.

“You’re leaving,” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, but it came out more like an accusation, his tired voice sounding too bitter than he would have liked.

The hand in his flinched but she didn’t pull away, in fact after her fingers seemed to tighten around his, like she was trying to hold onto something. Despite their linked hands, her head turned away, hidden eyes staring off into the distance.

“Guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought,” She joked, albeit weakly, her voice sounding strained and it was a strain that he hadn’t been expecting.

He wanted to view her as a stone-cold assassin so that the loss of her leaving wouldn’t be too much to bear but the raw emotion he could hear creeping into her voice told him that perhaps this was just as hard for her as it was for him. Martin had come to care for Iveona this past month, viewing her as a friend now and he could tell that she felt something of the same.

“I know Jauffre told you to leave,” He started, ignoring her quip in favour of being direct, wanting to let her hear him in hopes that she changed her mind.

In that moment, he realised he didn’t care that she was once a part of a Daedric cult who killed in their lords’ name, it would be unfair of him given his past. And he knew that she was more than what Jauffre and Baurus seemed to paint her as, there were many colours and fine detail to her that made her as human as the rest of them. If she was this dangerous assassin she would have slaughtered him out on the road when it was just the two of them, but she hadn’t done that. Instead, she protected him, she made him laugh by making small quips and calling him Princess, treated him like he was still a priest, a human being with feelings and free will. He felt that he’d formed a special bond with her, they had both been thrown into this Crisis without warning and he didn’t want to lose that, friendship was important. He wouldn’t force her to stay, she could do whatever she wished but a selfish part, a scared part, wanted her to stay as a familiar face among a sea of strange ones.

“And I know why he did and I find myself uncaring to the fact that you were a part of the Dark Brotherhood,” He paused when her hand violently ripped out of his, the force of it causing him to stumble forward slightly.

Iveona turned away from him then, her hunched back facing him, her entire form rigid and wound tight like a coil.

“Then you’re a fool,” This time, it was Martin’s turn to flinch. In all his life, he’d never heard such venom laced into someone’s tone that was cruelly spat out as words.

“Iveona-” He began again but he was interrupted.

“No, you do not understand. Jauffre was right, me being here puts you in danger and I won’t have my mistakes come back and hurt people that had nothing to do with it,” She exclaimed, her voice rising with each word, the volume the loudest he’d ever heard her speak.

Her back was still turned, her face hidden away from him and he took a risk by stepping forward. Iveona’s shoulder were quaking with a barely contained emotion that he couldn’t identify, and he felt his stomach turn. It was unusual and quite frankly a little worrying for the normally calm, collected and stoic womer seemed so visibly effected from what he assumed to be Jauffre’s words, it was extremely unlike what he knew of her. Martin took another step, his hands raised to brush against her back but stopped himself, knowing she wasn’t all that fond of being touched.

“There has been nothing for you to tell me that you’re a danger nor anything to tell me that you and your past alone is going to hurt a Legion of the Emperor’s personal soldiers,”

He took a drastic step back when she whirled around to face him, hood hanging off her shoulders, ebony locks whipping across her now exposed face. Her new mask was clutched tightly in her left hand, but he didn’t take too much notice, choosing to stare at her instead. He didn’t act surprised at the reveal, having seen her face briefly when healing her. The white crosses marring her features seemed to glow silver from the overhead moonlight, making them much more pronounced than before. He studied her for another moment or two, noticing her lips were plump, nose slim and shaped like an arrow, her cheekbones and hidden brows were sharp and high, much like the long point of her ears that cut through her now chin length hair. But he was uncaring to such features, her crimson eyes ablaze with flames with no sign of their usual ice staring him down.

“This is what I meant, Martin,” The use of his first name was jarring but he kept his eye contact with her.

“The people I worked for did this to me and they did it for fun. When they find out that I’m still alive, they will not hesitate to find me and slaughter everyone else around me, no matter who they are or what they mean to me, you just don’t get it,”

He moved closer to her, wanting her to know that he wasn’t afraid, even if the rapid thumping of his heart told him otherwise. Her speech then told him that she was the good person that he had led himself to believe she was, the one he knew still had room to grow and blossom. In that moment, seeing the raw vulnerability shining in her fiery eyes, he saw himself. He saw the boy with tears streaming down his dirtied face, the one who stumbled out of the burning inn, screams of the innocents following him before he ran away from it all. He could see her tensed body and knew that one wrong move would lead to her flight response, something he most certainly didn’t want.

“Then tell me, tell me what happened that could have made you believe that you alone could kill everyone here,” There was a hint of desperation leaking into his words that he tried to keep in.

Martin just wanted to understand and disrupt her way of thinking for it pained him to see his friend withholding such conflict. He wasn’t going to force her to tell him, she could walk out of the gates whenever she wanted, she didn’t owe him a thing. A tense and awkward silence lapsed between them, neither moving as Martin simply watched her and Iveona stood, her now dulling eyes still staring into the distance.

“I was never really a part of the Dark Brotherhood, not really. My role was to carry out jobs directly from my superior, a Silencer if you would,” She began, and Martin listened with rapt attention.

“One day, our official leader along with other members were killed and we were left scattered, all of those who were left regrouped to Old Mournhold. We knew who’d done it and we sent more after her, but she found us, and she had me, a blade to my throat and,” Iveona hesitated then, clearing her throat and angling her face away from Martin.

“And she let me go. I knew who she was, what she had to do with me, but I was terrified, so I ran. I ran because I knew they’d kill me. I’d seen some people escape and once they found out that the target had let me go, they’d make the connection. So, I hid, hopped from country to country for who knows how long but you can’t escape the Dark Brotherhood,”

Martin shivered.

“They found me in Morrowind, I was a fool to go back but I wanted to see my homeland again. I was only passing through to gain passage to Skyrim, which is where they caught me in Solstheim. It was a shame they didn’t kill me, my superior deemed me still useful but set out to ‘fix’ me for my crimes, which is how my lovely mug came to be,”

Her hand clutching her mask moved, her head tilting to stare at it.

“I was finally given another chance in my role as a Silencer, claiming they still needed one, their numbers still short and only just becoming comfortable in Cyrodiil but I was all set up and that’s how I landed in the Imperial Prison for six months. No one came for me while I was in there, so I thought, when Uriel Septim came along, I had a chance at starting anew. I wanted to make up for my sins within the Dark Brotherhood, I wanted to change, to maybe find a life worth living again,”

She turned back to face him again, a million emotions that he hadn’t seen on her before flittering across her face, her eyes flickering back and forth.

“But Jauffre reminded me that all my past does is determine my future and I can’t risk everyone else for my own selfish purposes. So do you understand now Martin, how I can’t stay, no matter how much I want to,” She finished, emphasising every other word with a jerky mask held hand.

Barely concealed tears glistened in her expressive eyes and Martin didn’t think he could form words in response what he’d just heard. It all seemed like nightmare that she couldn’t wake up from; her fellow brethren had been slaughtered by someone she shared a mysterious connection with, leading her to run only to be tortured to the extent of a heavily disfigured. But Uriel Septim had given her a dream, a silver lining that showed her a chance of a new life, of achieving a new hope and a way to find redemption within herself and Jauffre was pulling her back into her nightmare.

He edged closer to her and she watched him warily through glistening eyes. There was only so much his words could do in situations like this, he had experienced that when he was a priest in Kvatch. So, he did the one thing that had brought him comfort after a rough night as a child, what had brought so many others he knew comfort.

He hugged her.

The reaction she gave him was expected and he felt guilty about the gentle embrace, knowing how it affected her but he wanted to show her that he cared. Her breathing hitched and if possible, her posture became tighter. There was a clatter as her mask fell to the ground and Martin held her tighter, his chin resting on her rigid shoulder.

“I won’t ask you to stay or leave but I just want you to know, that you have a place here. Regardless of your past, you will never be a danger to anyone here or to me, ever,”

There was a gentle breeze that passed over their entwined bodies, her hair brushing against his cheek and he caught her scent in the passing wind; leather and a flowery scent he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He went to pull away, but he felt her body uncoil under his warm fingertips. All the stress and weariness he had seen faded away from her body, hesitant arms coming to wrap around his middle. Her gloved hands pressed against his shoulder blades and her forehead came to rest on his collarbone.

Somewhere, in the distance within the Jerall Mountains, a lion roared with renewed vigour.


	12. Uncontrollable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again after nearly a three month absence...... I've finished my first year of uni so hopefully, if life doesn't through more shit at me, I will be able to focus on this more! I am determined to finish the fic guys (i plan for it to be 35 chapters)

The screeching noise of metal hitting metal rang across the air, making anyone who was watching wince. There was a small audience gathered on the porch leading into the Temple and Iveona could feel their eyes burning into her. Right now, however, she didn't care, her focus on her blade interlocked with two other swords. Her arms quaked as she fought to knock the Blades backwards, Jena and Cyrus having equal expression of effort. Jena stumbled slightly as her metal clad foot slipped on the grass and Iveona used this to her advantage by giving on final push, fuelling the power into her sword. It had the effect for Jena fell to the ground and Cyrus' blade flew out of his hand and skidded across the stone to the Temple's porch steps. There was a gasp that she ignored in favour of ducking down and sweeping her now outstretched leg in a full circle that knocked Cyrus to the ground to which he moaned and threw his hands out in defeat, telling her that he yielded before rolling out of the mini arena.

She turned to Jena next, her last standing opponent now back to her full height, blade in hand. They moved then in opposite directions, circling each other like predators would do to their prey as they were about to attack their unfortunate meal. It was clear to the audience who was the prey and who was the predator. Iveona twirled her new sword in her hand, her posture tall and confident with her shoulders moving up and down heavily but it didn't even seem like she was even breaking a sweat. Her clothing was thin, wearing a red tunic that was tucked into black trousers, her feet bare and her arms void of gauntlets. Meanwhile Jena's posture was weaker, her sword shaking and chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat shining across her face as she was no doubt burning in her heavy metal armour.

Jena sprung on Iveona then, which the Dunmer anticipated and blocked the blow, their swords meeting in the middle. What she didn't expect was for Jena to pull back and sweep her sword into a waist height arch that could have easily cut her in two. She acted quickly, bending backwards so that her back was arched, the blade going to skin over her face before she went back further, placing her hands to the ground. Iveona kicked her legs up, feeling the blade cut her leg but it ultimately worked in her favour, knocking the blade clean out of Jena’s hands. She landed back on her feet just in time to catch the sword by its hilt, pointing Jena's blade at her own neck.

The Imperial stared at her wide eyed, the pair both panting heavily and Iveona could feel the fire burning in her eyes. She blinked, willing the intense feeling away, not wanting her thrill of fights and her bloodlust to get in the way. Iveona dropped the sword from Jena's throat and she could see her gulp, relief clear on her face that made Iveona frown underneath the cloth that covered her face. In hopes to calm the Blade down, she passed her sword back and the woman took it back gently, a small smile now appearing on her face.

 

"Impressive, you're going to fit well in the Blades when you become a Knight-Sister," Iveona's heart fluttered in her chest then, hope causing her heart to thump.

Unable to answer, Iveona nodded in appreciation, cringing as Jena scurried away from her. She shook her head at herself, her people skills clearly still needed work but by the Three she was trying. She knew it was for her own benefit, that growing to overcome the person she had been, to embrace what she once was with the chance she had been given. And she was going to all throw it away because an old man told her what to do.

Thinking about it now, it was foolish to walk away like she had her tail between her legs. The talk of being a danger had made sense at first but with Martin's words and her own further introspection at night, she understood that he had been planting that in her mind to manipulate her to leave. By now she thought she would have been able be detect manipulation but clearly her emotions blinded her like a complete idiot. While the lingering feeling that her former Brotherhood could find her, they’d had near to a year to find her and deal with loose ends, but they hadn’t.

Her heart thumped at the idea of finally being free to make her own choices without the impending consequences. She was able to forge her own fate and that was here with the Blades. Iveona had been present when Martin had informed Jauffre that she would be staying with the demand she be a part of the Emperor’s Blades. The Breton had been furious, his face blotching crimson, venom spitting out of his mouth, but neither were dented. But Jauffre couldn't refuse because after all, Martin was to be the Emperor. Iveona had given him a smug look under her mask but felt slightly bad, knowing that he was only trying to keep Martin safe, even if that meant looking at her with malice she had only seen in her Speaker.

Iveona felt it in her heart that this was where she was supposed to be, surrounded by truths and companionship rather than lies and hostility. When Uriel Septim had told her of being "this sun's companion" and that he'd seen her in his dreams and the life ahead of her, she felt like she was being forced into something she wanted no part of. But now she understood that she had a chance to save a world that she had long since given up on and caused further harm to. Now she was able to fix what was right, even if it was an extreme struggle for her. It was take her some time to fully embrace it, but she would try for herself.

Her thoughts dwindled away when someone shoved her shoulder, causing her to stumble forward, cursing her frazzled mind. She turned abruptly, a mild throb on her shin that she ignored. Baurus stood fully armoured with a sword and shield his hands respectively, his posture rigid and ready to spring. Iveona quirked an eyebrow, wondering if Jauffre needed something or she'd been standing out here for too long and it was annoying him. If she breathed, it seemed to raise his ire. Underneath the cloth, she went to open her mouth to question him, only for him to thrust his sword towards her stomach. As she hadn’t been preparing or able to tell he would make the move, he nicked her stomach before she stumbled backwards away from him.

There was a pause where she glanced down at front, red staining the new hole on her shirt. A piece of hair fell into her eye as she looked back up, seeing him positioned to strike again but waiting for her to make a move. Her gaze flickered behind Baurus, finding everyone still watching, this time horror and curiosity on their faces. She huffed out a breath through her nose, the nostril flaring in slight anger. Her gaze moved back to Baurus, specifically his shield, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy. No matter what, her biggest weakness in fights always came down to shields because it meant her opponent had more protection which she often found hard to exploit unless she managed to get behind them. She thanked her agility she might be able to do that, but she knew Baurus was skilled, having heard that he was the youngest Blade and one of the best and along with the hatred he seemed to harbour for her, he wasn’t going to make this easy. The moment their eyes met, he pounced.

He bought his shield forward to bash her with and she jumped to the right, knowing the best idea was to wear him out so she could get behind him and use her weapon properly. So, she ducked and rolled with each bash he sent her way, moving in a quick circle around him to make him disorientated. He must have picked up on that however because he slashed her with his sword, which she quickly back flipped to avoid it. But when she came back to her feet, her face was met with his first successful bash that smacked her in the face, coming with a resounding crack. She tripped in shock, feeling blood trickle behind her mask, pain flaring up her back as she landed on the ground. He drove his sword towards her face and she swiftly caught it, gripping the sharp edges into a tight hold that would throw him off. She enjoyed the shocked look on his face as he tugged only to find that she held on tight and she ignored the way it sliced her skin.

Iveona tugged slightly to bring him closer and used the less space between them to kick him in the stomach with as might as she could, twisting the sword so that it would fall out of his grip as she put strain on his wrist. It clattered somewhere beside her, but she was too occupied to care. Instead, she angled her body to the side, cut hands planting on the ground as she lifted her right leg up high enough so that when she suddenly twirled over, she knocked his hand that held his shield. The sound of metal hitting the ground was heard and she quickly got onto her knees to assess the scene to find Baurus picking his sword again, eyes still focused one her.

She sighed in frustration, anger quickly building like fire through her veins, knowing that he would only give up when one of them lay unconscious on the floor. Iveona stood up, her body shaking with rage and exhaustion, her hands curling into fists. Blood slipped between her knuckles, dripping to the floor and pooling at her feet. There was a gasp from somewhere in the crowd that she paid no mind to, instead she ripped two strips of cloth from her shirt, wrapping it around her wounds so that she could still grip the sword. She wasn't skilled in magic (unless it flared uncontrollably but she had taught herself to prevent that) so there was no use in a healing spell.

Iveona grabbed the hilt of her sword, bringing it forward as the pair locked gazes, Iveona’s fiery one clashing with the ice within Baurus’. Simultaneously, the neared each other becoming closer until the tips of the swords touched. That was all the pair needed to draw back and move forward to let their swords collide. Then it was a flurry of metal against metal, both easily blocking each blow they sent each other as they moved around in an intense dance. When he would strike left, she'd block. When he moved in a sweeping arc, she'd bend backward and move up to whack his face with pommel of her sword.

She'd noticed that he was quite quick and from her limited knowledge she knew that Redguards were known for their quicker stamina regeneration, so it was easy for him to keep going and it would take a while for him to become fatigued. Meanwhile, she was quickly wearing out, her blocks and attacks were becoming sloppier as she tried to fight back, the spar with Jena and Cyrus earlier catching up with her. It didn’t help how it was harder to catch him considering that he was well armoured. Her lack of armour came to bite her back in the ass when Baurus made an under-arc sweep, the movement too fast for her to dodge as the sword flew high, catching her cheek before travelling further. She jerked back before he caught her eye, but the blade still ran across her eyebrow to her hairline.

Blood fell into her eye and she firmly screwed it shut, ignoring the twinge of pain she got. If anything, the fresh wound made her skin burn hotter than before and she knew that she was quickly losing control. If she didn't finish Baurus, she didn't know what would happen and it certainly wasn't ideal. Regardless, he didn't let up on her, even when there were yells at the crowd who seemed too far away to stop him from doing anything and she thought she saw a flash of blue. He went to strike again and this time she caught his wrist, her mind becoming a haze as she quickly lost control of herself, knowing that there was no stopping once Baurus had pushed her too far.  

Both eyes fell closed as she tried to calm herself, her grip on Baurus' wrist quaking as the pair of them fought for dominance. The sensation of someone grabbing her shoulder was felt, the hold tight and squeezing her collarbone. The tighter he curled his fingers around her, the quicker her self-control faded.

She heard something snap, followed by a scream.

Then she saw nothing but fire.

* * *

 

Martin had found it odd that the Temple seemed to be deserted, it was well into the afternoon, so no one was sleeping in late. It wouldn't have been so strange if it was a Sundas morning, but it was Fredes, two weeks since he had arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple. Upon further investigation he found that they were all outside in a tight row watching something which he found to be Baurus and Iveona fighting. At first, he thought it was a spar, but it turned out to be a brutal fight that no one seemed to be stopping but even he couldn’t find it within him to do anything, instead simply watching in horror as Baurus injured Iveona without a care in the world. Blood followed behind her with every move she made, painting the stone crimson over its normal grey. It was simply horrific, and Martin tried to do something, but the Blades kept pushing him back. Then the pair had come to a halt on the far right of the courtyard, Iveona’s hand tight around Baurus’ wrist and Baurus’ hand firm on her collarbone. When her collarbone snapped, one of the Blades screamed.

No one expected Iveona’s body to burst into flames.

Baurus’ grip from her collarbone fell then and he tried to escape but her hand was still latched around his wrist. She tugged him forward, her mouth moving when he was close enough before pushing him. With whatever the fire encased her was, made her a lot stronger because her push was more like a throw and Baurus went skidding across the courtyard.

Everyone moved then, all the Blades hurrying towards the left, while Martin moved to the right. Iveona still stood there on fire and he could tell how badly she was shaking, so he approached her with raised hands, not wanting to appear threatening. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, not in fear but more in worry. He knew that she would never hurt him, he trusted her on that.

He approached so that he was in her line of vision but didn't get too close to prevent himself from getting burned. The flames wobbled violently, telling him that she was trying to control herself. Martin had no clue how she managed to do this, it was simple bizarre. While he knew that Dunmer had strong ties to the element, he had no idea just how strong.

"Iveona," He called softly.

Apparently, it was all that was needed for the flames flickered and died. Iveona stumbled forward and Martin caught her in his arms, gently lowering her to the floor soon after. She gave a groan of displeasure when he did, and he tried to calm her.

"Is she alright?" An unexpected voice coming from his left made him jump.

Glancing to his left, he saw it was Jena, he believed to be her name, who was gazing at Iveona in concern. His gaze flickered back to Iveona taking in the state of her injuries; there were two spots of red on her shirt, but the wounds didn't look like they were bleeding heavily, along with the minor cut on her shin. The mark across the upper half of her face didn't look all that deep, more like a paper cut more than anything but the red on the piece of cloth that covered her face told him she must have broken her nose or something along the line. It was the state of her collarbone that made his stomach churn; part of where the bone had been snapped had torn through her skin and was jutting out painfully, the bone plain to see.

Martin felt a wave of anger wash over him before the waters calmed soon after; finding himself extremely annoyed that Baurus let his hatred get the better of him and that Iveona had let him take it out on her. If she hadn't been careful enough, he could have injured her more and this was already bad enough.

"She will be. If you could fetch me some water, cloth and alcohol, that'd be great,"

Jena nodded and ran off without another word and Martin kept his gaze on Iveona, her face contorted into pain. There was only so much his magic could do so he had to wait to clean her biggest wound before he looked to healing the others. Instead, he began to talk, not wanting her to fall asleep, he could already see her eyes beginning to droop.

"Iveona," He spoke firmly, and her dazed red eyes fluttered open, locking onto his.

Blood dribbled from the wound above her eye and Martin collect the edge of his sleeve to wipe the blood away before it fell into her eye, dabbing gently so not to hurt her. When most of blood was cleaned away, he looked back at her, finding an unexpected softness in them he had never seen before. For a second it left him speechless, having never see such a look in her eyes before. When he blinked however, the gentleness was gone for her eyes began to droop.

“Iveona!” He yelled this time, panic evident in his voice.

Her eyes flutter open and her expression became one of vexation, her sharp eyebrows furrowing together.

“Calm down, Princess, I’m not going to pass out, the sun’s in my eyes,” Martin spluttered and was about to say something when Jena arrived, coming to kneel next to Iveona’s other side, the concern still evident in her face.

Gently, as not to hurt her further, he lowered her to the ground to which her only reaction was the pinching of her face. Martin gestured for Jena to hand him the supplies and she passed them over to him, all the while still staring at Iveona.

“Thank you, Jena, I’ll be able to attend to her injuries now,” It was a subtle way of dismissing her and Martin saw her hesitation before she simply nodded and left, but not without giving Iveona a longing glance.

Martin brushed that off for now, deciding to focus on his work. He glanced at the broken collarbone first, knowing that was what needed to be sorted first before anything else. It was going to be gruesome, but he luckily knew what he was doing, all he had to do was set the bone in placed before using a healing spell to fuse the bone back together then the skin. The priest grabbed the cloth with one hand and the other reached towards Iveona’s face to take her mask off so that she could have something to bite down on. Just before he took the mask off, he glanced at Iveona, asking for her permission and she nodded in return. Carefully he peeled off the ruined piece of cloth and winced at the blood that served as a new mask on the lower half of her face, her nose positioned at a crooked angle. Not wanting to dwell on it too much, he placed the other piece of cloth between her teeth before getting to work.


	13. Branch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrow..... I can't believe this story has been out for a YEAR and I'm still POSTING? I'm shook but it's all down to how badly I wanna tell this story and I WILL finish it. Enjoy! This chapter is more lighthearted and ps I'm so bloody excited for the next few chapters lads

Iveona sat in the corner of the room on one of the benches, hidden in the shadows as she ate her soup; her face uncovered. Surprisingly, the food held flavour, using spices that reminded her of Morrowind and she quickly deduced that the cook here was a Dunmer. She placed all her concentration into eating, finding it hard considering her dominant arm was in a sling and her nose still had a phantom pain.

 

That and she was trying to avoid the eyes that were boring into the side of her face, Martin no doubt ready berate her for her behaviour earlier, something that she wished to avoid simply because she didn't want to be treated like a child. If anything, she blamed Baurus, the Redguard having vanished from the Hold after being berated by his superior and she was glad he had, not wanting to be in the same room as him.

 

She wasn't going to apologise for defending herself when he attacked her but perhaps she had taken that defence to the extreme, something she wasn't willingly going to admit. Using that power had left her drained and she had reprimanded herself allowing it to take control of her. She hadn't used the ability in a while, the last time being more than a year ago, hating that it was so easily triggered by her emotions.

 

The gaze remained on her cheek and she decided that she'd had enough of Martin's staring. With a frustrated grunt, she dropped her spoon, the soup splashing and landing on the wooden surface.

 

"What?" She snapped, her exhaustion getting the better of her.

 

Martin flinched, and her shoulder dropped, knowing that it was unfair to act like this after he had healed her with great care. The Blades in the room glanced at her warily and she shrunk further into the shadows, trying to hide her face. The Imperial scooted over then, merging into the shadows with her as he came to sit opposite, and she avoided his gaze, choosing to stare at her soup.

 

"What you did was reckless, Iveona," He started, and she contained the eye roll, instead giving an annoyed sigh.

 

"What would you have me do, Martin? Let him beat me to a bloody pulp or defend myself? He clearly was trying to hurt me," She replied defensively, her appetite lost as she pushed the bowl to the side in favour of dripping the edge of the table.

 

"I know that, but it seemed you had the same intent,"

 

Iveona didn't reply, knowing that he was right, and her pride came through headstrong.

 

“Iveona,” He called her name, speaking to her far more gently this time. The warmth in his voice caused her to raise her head to look at him, finding him staring at her with concern.

 

"I'm not angry, far from it, I was just worried for you, my friend," He stated and Iveona gulped.

 

Even after a week of their now labelled friendship, Iveona still found it hard that anyone was willing to care about her like Martin did. She could tell that he really did, and it scared her; the last time someone cared about her like this, they died and she didn't think she was ready to lose that again. It would take her a while to get used to but maybe, just maybe she could find it within herself to be content.

 

“Okay,” Was all she could think to reply with.

 

Martin gave her a small, reassuring smile and Iveona mimicked it, feeling her previous angst rapidly fade away, warmth filling her instead. It was strange, to feel so much light within herself when all she had known was dread but she welcomed the light with open arms. Someone cleared their throat behind her and instinct took over, her hand coming to grab the piece of cloth that hung around her neck, quickly pulling it over her mouth and nose. She chose not to wear her mask when on Temple grounds, knowing then she would become closed off to everyone here and she wanted to make some sort of connection here. Once that was done, she turned around to glance at whoever it was, catching a glimpse of Martin’s disappointed face that she didn’t acknowledge.

 

One of the Blades, one that she recognised to be Jena, came and stood by the end of the table and the pair stared at her expectantly. Iveona noted that Jena’s pale cheeks had darkened in colour, her eyes averted her own, causing the Dunmer to glance at Martin in question only to find him equally as confused.

 

"Is everything alright, Jena?" Martin wondered, and Jena nodded quickly.

 

"Yes, I was just... just wondering how you were doing, Iveona,"

 

Iveona blinked in surprise and in the corner of her eye she saw Martin hiding a small, all knowing smile behind his hand that she scowled at, not quite sure why he was pulling that ridiculous face. She cleared her throat, remembering that Jena was waiting for her answer.

 

"I'm fine, thank you," She informed her shortly, unable to find another response, not at all skilled in proper communication.

 

Jena gestured to the seat beside her then but sat down before Iveona could give her permission to sit beside her. She shuffled away slightly to allow room for Jena to sit and to avoid physical contact with someone she barely knew.

 

"That's good! That fight was messy, and I was extremely impressed with your skill, even when you turned into flames at the end, how did you do that?"

 

Iveona felt her shoulder hunch as the tension grew in her muscle, her body ready to lash out even when she didn't need to. She supposed it was her normal reaction whenever someone spoke to her in a mildly positive way, fearing that there was an ulterior motive. But she knew there was none, simply that Jena was curious and being friendly and the tension she felt simmered away as quick as it had arrived. Iveona turned to meet Jena’s apprehensive yet intrigued eyes and Iveona let her worries fade away for now, instead choosing to focus   on Jena instead and the question presented to her.

 

"Well, my ability is something we Dunmer call Ancestor's Wrath. Sometimes, we draw from the magic of our ancestors who live in Oblivion and they grant us these abilities, some Dunmers can summon their ancestors directly," She explained, and Jena looked at her in awe.

 

Iveona was surprised that Jena was unaware of this, but then again, each power was racial, and she was probably only aware of her own races' special ability. She glanced at Martin to gauge his reaction, finding him as equally as fascinated.

 

"I didn't realise that was a Dunmer's racial ability, though I'm not surprised that it half has something to do with fire. We Imperials can either calm a battle with just our voice or make someone tired at our touch. I'm not sure what I can do, I never cared to try but maybe now I will, how did you activate it?" Jena seemed extremely confident when talking to her, a far cry from her behaviour earlier.

 

Rather than the withdrawn posture earlier, she was facing Iveona directly and her body language was open; shoulders wide and pretty face bright. Her armour was replaced with a green linen shirt tucked into dark breeches and laced boots with her chocolate hair curled down her shoulder. Iveona took a moment to appreciate Jena's appearance, having never seen her out her armour before. In fact, the longer she stared, the pinker Jena's cheeks became and Iveona coughed slightly, hurrying to answer her question.

 

"It's not really something I like talking about..." She trailed off and winced at the disappointment that washed over Jena's face.

 

Jena began to move out of her seat then, seeming awfully flustered and Iveona tried not to show how awkward she felt. By Azura she was utterly and completely awful at any form of conversation, but she was trying.

 

"Well, I'll see you around, Iveona. Maybe when your arm is better we can train together,"

 

Before Iveona had a chance to confirm or deny that they could train together in the future, Jena hurried off to other Blades who had been watching the exchange with slight worry in their eyes. Iveona turned back to her soup to distract herself, groaning in misery all the while. Martin was staring at her with a cheeky grin on his face, his eyes gleaming with mirth that made her narrow her red eyes, trying to appear threatening.

 

"What?" She snapped, though not at all in a horrible way, rather one of vexation.

 

Martin coughed, covering his mouth with his hand in a failed attempt to hide his smile, one that she saw right through.

 

"Nothing," He told her unconvincingly. If it was possible her eyes narrowed further, becoming slits.

 

"Well, what's the smile for?"

 

"Nothing!"

 

Without thinking she grabbed the spoon submerged in the bowl of soup and flung it up, liquid spraying everywhere as she pointed the item at him threateningly. The image was absurd; a former assassin using a spoon as a weapon towards the Emperor of Tamriel. 

 

"Well if you don't wipe that stupid grin off your face I will throw this spoon at you," She growled, putting on the scariest voice possible.

 

If anything, his grin became wider, no longer hiding it as his lip curled deviously. He lent forward, hands clasped, resting his chin on it and Iveona had never seen him seem to bright before. She supposed that his truer self was coming out of its shell now that they were friends.

 

"You know I'm the Emperor, you could be harmed for treason if you hurt me," He started cheekily, and she let out a breathy laugh, shocked that he had made that joke.

 

He seemed to be proud of himself because his blue eyes were practically twinkling against the candlelight, like the sun glistening against the soft waves of the ocean. She ripped her mask away from her face, wanting him to see how much he was grating on her nerves, baring her teeth in a mock smile. He startled, obviously having never seen her smile before but she brushed it off.

 

"I'm not hurting you because you're the Emperor but because you're a little shit,"

 

With that she threw the spoon, which he must have anticipated because he quickly ducked under the table to avoid the projectile. The spoon whacked Captain Steffan in the back, causing the man to yelp in what she hoped to be surprise rather than pain. He whirled around to find the culprit before she could hide, and his gaze locked onto her wide eyed one. In a rather uncharacteristic way, she raised her hand sheepishly and waved at him which caused him to roll his eyes. Steffan turned back around, grumbling all the while and Iveona felt herself relax. For a moment, she was fearful he was going to draw his sword and cut her down there and then, after the incident with Baurus she wouldn’t have been surprised. With one arm out of use, she’d be pretty defenceless.

 

Martin’s head emerged from the table and she turned to glare at him, which narrowed further when she saw that he was laughing. His cheeks were flushed, bringing out his freckles that she hadn’t seen before, no doubt from the sun he had been exposed to on their journey to Weynon Priory. His eyes sparkled like sapphires as they shone in the light and she felt heat spread across her chest. But she ignored it as she soon began to laugh, finding Martin’s contagious. Their laughter was borderline hysterical, but she didn’t care in the slightest, feeling good about herself for once in a long time.

 

She saw tears fill in his eyes and after a while, she found it hard to breathe so she slowed her laughter down and Martin followed until they were left huffing and giving shorter laughs. Iveona threw a napkin at Martin, seeing the state he was in; tears staining his face and cheeks rosy red. He gladly took it, wiping his face to clear of tears. When he finished, they stared at each other for a moment, pure joy radiating from the both as wide smiles adorned their faces.

 

His eyes flickered down to her mouth and his face softened, coming to rest his cheek on his raised fist, tilting his head. Iveona felt her smile dim, morphing into a close lipped one, glancing curiously at him.

 

“What is it?” She wondered.

 

He seemed to hesitate in what to say, eyes flickering away to land on her left hand that was sitting on the table. His free hand lifted, inching towards her own. Iveona didn’t say anything, just watching to see if he would do what she thought he would do. If he did, she didn’t mind, she was comfortable around him now in terms of physical contact. His hand hovered above her own and she held her breath. At the last second, his hand closed into a fist and he drew it away, much to her disappointment.

 

When she looked back up, his entire face was flushed which she knew to be from embarrassment, his eyes averted from hers. The smile slipped from her face, concern quickly settling, her sharp eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Martin-”

 

She trailed off however when a shadow loomed over her, causing her to cover her face again, expression becoming neutral Iveona turned around, finding Jauffre standing there staring down at her and her eyes narrowed, her good mood ruined. She glared at the Grandmaster for a few seconds, wondering what he wanted but didn’t ask, waiting for him to speak.

 

“Nethys,” He greeted, his voice stern, barely holding in his distain.

 

“Jauffre,” She replied, not bothering to use his proper title. She’d use that when he’d earned her respect and he wouldn’t be gaining it anytime soon if he kept treating her like dirt under his boot.

 

“May we speak in my office,” His words were a statement rather than a request, leaving no room for disagreement.

 

Iveona glanced at Martin to find him frowning, worry in his eyes. She reached over and placed her hand over his clenched fist that sat on the table, giving him a short squeeze of reassurance. He knew they didn’t get on and probably feared something terrible would happen. She saw his posture relax slightly but the tension remained on his face. The Dunmer turned back to Jauffre, rising from her seat as she did.

 

“Lead the way,” She suggested with an exaggerated flourish of her one good arm and Jauffre moved towards the hallway the lead to the living quarters.

 

For a second, she glanced back at Martin, finding him watching her still before she turned back around and followed Jauffre, an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

* * *

 

Jauffre made his way up the stairs that lead to his office, tilting his head so they he would be sure Nethys was still following him and that she wasn’t going to stab him in the back at any moment. He didn’t trust her in the slightest, no matter how many times Martin assured him that she was. He had no reason to do so, she was a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, she was in the same type of job in the people who had murdered the Uriel Septim and his other sons. He could he be sure that the Brotherhood didn’t have a scheme up their sleeves to kill Martin? That Iveona’s closeness was a ploy to sink her dagger into his back when they least expected it? She’d already attacked Baurus which already didn’t put her in his good books. Yes, Baurus attacked as well but it still didn’t paint her in a good light.

 

So, what he was going to say to her now would be the test of whether or not he could trust her and a way to prove herself to him. It was to show if she was fully committed to this as much as Martin made her out to be.

 

Jauffre moved into the office, swiftly going to stand behind his desk to place a barrier between himself and Nethys, needing some sense of security. It wasn’t that he was afraid of her, far from it, he wanted to keep a distance between them. He turned around when he heard the door slide shut, finding Nethys standing casually. Her good arm was placed on her cocked-out hip, the opposite leg stretched out in a very disrespectful manner that made him narrow his eyes.

 

“Stand to attention,” He snapped.

 

Nethys’ eyes flashed, and he waited for the stubbornness he had come to expect from her. Much to his surprise however, her leg drew in and her good arm came to rest behind her back, her posture becoming straight. Her chin lifted, short hair brushing over her face, crimson eyes boring into his blue ones. The tension was thick in the air, but he didn’t bother to address it, realising that it would always be present between the two of them. Instead, he chose to focus on the task at hand.

 

“I’ve a mission for you,” He began, and her eyebrow rose in interest.

 

“I want you to go to the Imperial City and investigate the activity of the Mythic Dawn I’ve heard rumours about in hopes that we can find the Amulet of Kings. Baurus is already investigating, so you should meet him at the Boarding House. But this isn’t just about finding the Amulet, it’s also about you,”

 

Both eyebrows rose then, confusion clear in her gaze and Jauffre took a deep breath.

 

“It is clear to me by now that Martin trusts you wholly and completely, despite your status as the very thing that seeks to end his life,”

 

He saw her mouth move underneath the piece of cloth that hid most of her face and he quickly moved to continue before they argued.

 

“Which is why I’m giving you this task to prove yourself to me that I can trust you and to begin your first steps in becoming a Blade. So, you are to meet Baurus at [] to begin your mission, am I clear?” He finished.

 

“Yes, sir,” She replied without hesitation, her low voice muffled.

 

“Good, then you are dismissed,”

 

Nethys turned around, hurriedly moving to the door and Jauffre watched. However, she hesitated as her hand reached over to the handle, making no move to open it, her hand hovering. Abruptly, she spun around, striding over to him and Jauffre seized up, a hand reaching over to his blade secured at his side. She stopped at the edge of the other side of the desk, her hand sticking out for him to shake. He felt his jaw loosen but he quickly clenched it, wanting to maintain his professional demeanour, no matter how much her act threw him off.

 

Slowly, his grip loosened on the sword’s pommel and he stared at the hand momentarily. Nethys’ outstretched hand and her gaze didn’t waver, waiting for him to either accept her unspoken offering of peace or to dismiss her completely. Jauffre’s hand rose, choosing the latter and clasping her surprisingly warm grey hand in his metal clad cold one.

 

They shook hands and for a fleeting second he thought away bringing her closer, nose to nose so that he could threaten her, to warn her that if she failed the mission or did anything jeopardise Baurus’ life, he would not hesitate to have her thrown in prison that ended with a noose around her neck. But as her hand started to fall away, he decided against it, feeling that their now truce would be ruined and Jauffre wanted to keep it civil with her for the time being.

 

The tension had lessened considerably now as they stared at each other and Iveona gave him a final nod before she turned on her heel, this time leaving the room without hesitation. All the while, Jauffre remained frozen at his desk, his thoughts quickly consuming him as the door slid shut and he was left alone.

 

Maybe, just maybe he had been wrong about the Dunmer. Maybe, just maybe she wasn’t the bloody thirsty assassin he thought her to be. Maybe, just maybe he couldn’t regret this. But all remained to be seen depending on how well the mission went.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Chapter Titles: Iveona goes into bisexual panic mode


End file.
